


Unrequited, No More

by st_mick



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: And don't forget the genetic anomalies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complicated mating processes, M/M, Multiple Suicides, Starts off Very DARK, because i can't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-06 04:14:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20500703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto thinks he's just Jack's part-time shag.   He couldn't be more wrong.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unrequited](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016913) by [st_mick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick). 

> ...because I can't seem to leave well-enough alone.  
"Unrequited" kept going, even after I posted it.  
I told it it was done, but it just wouldn't listen.  
So if Chapter One looks familiar, that's because it is. :)

Jack grinned up at Ianto as he checked the ropes binding the older man to the bed. Jack was on his back, the ropes securing him, spread-eagled, to the four corners of the frame. His hips were supported by several pillows, and he was hard as a rock, waiting for his lover to begin their game.

It would have surprised most people to know that Ianto could be a fantastic dominant, when he put his mind to it. He was also a mind-blowing submissive. Jack didn’t even notice when they became exclusive – simply because Ianto never bored him. He was, quite possibly, the best shag Jack had ever known.

Ianto kissed his way down Jack’s torso, teasing his nipples with bites and licks. Jack couldn’t get much purchase, in his position, but he canted his hips and growled, “Want you to suck me off,” and wondered which way this would go.

He grinned as Ianto slowly made his way down to Jack’s cock, and proceeded to do as he had been bidden. As Jack came down from his first orgasm, he caught sight of Ianto, kneeling between his legs. The younger man was stroking his own cock, looking hungrily at Jack, spread out before him like a feast. But then a strange expression passed over his face, and he reached into the drawer of the bedside table.

Jack licked his lips as he watched Ianto place a cock ring on himself. “Ooh, this is going to be good,” Jack smiled. He then lost the thread of the evening as Ianto plunged his face between his legs and began sucking his balls as his cock quickly filled again. The younger man licked along Jack’s perineum, then began laving his hole. Within minutes, Jack was coming again on nothing but Ianto’s tongue in his arse.

“Fuck me,” he begged, his body quickly responding as he felt Ianto’s cock filling him. This particular reaction – of not staying sated for very long – didn’t happen very often, but when it did, it was the gorgeous Welshman who could get Jack off a dozen times without flagging. “Touch me, Ianto, please,” he whimpered, and Ianto was only too happy to comply.

Jack noticed that Ianto was sweating profusely, and he grinned. Undoubtedly the younger man wanted to come, _needed_ to come, but Jack was feeling selfish. Let the boy squirm. He liked this game. As much fun as it was when Ianto dominated him, Jack adored topping from the bottom. Being tied up, but calling every shot.

“Put on the nipple clamps,” he demanded, once he got his breath back from his latest orgasm. Ianto reached for the clamps, but Jack said, “No, not those. The good ones.”

The ‘good ones’ were actually quite vicious. Ianto’s hand hesitated, but soon enough he had secured them in place. 

“Want you to ride me,” Jack squirmed. The sight of the clamps had made him hard again. “Use that,” he nodded at the come covering his belly.

Ianto ran his fingers through the mess and used it to open himself for Jack. He had barely begun when Jack told him that was sufficient. Ianto sighed. Jack was feeling malicious tonight, apparently. Wanted it to hurt.

Soon he was riding Jack’s cock, pulling on the chain between the clamps the way Jack asked. His own cock was swollen and needy, but so far Jack had not concerned himself with Ianto’s pleasure. 

Jack came hard as he saw a small droplet of blood form where one of the clamps was biting into Ianto’s left nipple. Ianto climbed off of him without complaint, covered in sweat and looking beleaguered. 

“Swallow my cock,” Jack squirmed again. He _loved_ letting himself go, like this. Loved that Ianto would do whatever he demanded. He looked up, surprised when Ianto choked for a moment. The man was an absolute _god_ at giving head, so he wasn’t sure what the problem was. But then he found his rhythm, and Jack didn’t think anything more of it.

Ianto was fucking him again, pumping his cock when Jack saw the tears start. The younger man let out a small sob, and Jack came, his vision whiting out. 

When he came back around, he was still tied to the bed. Ianto had carefully washed him. Jack frowned when he saw that Ianto had removed the nipple clamps. Then he got hard again as the younger man straddled him, holding a straight razor. _Oh, yes._ Ianto hated bloodplay, no matter how quickly Jack healed, so it was always a treat when he gave in and did it. 

“So?” Ianto’s expression was strange. His cock still looked a bit swollen and neglected, but far less so than before, and the cock ring was gone. Jack briefly wondered if Ianto had cheated, but doubted it, given the tension the younger man was still radiating. 

“Y incision,” Jack said with a grin. He was feeling morbid. “Not deep, just enough to sting.”

Ianto nodded. Jack’s eyes flew wide as the younger man began cutting himself, rather than Jack. “Ianto, what are you doing?” he asked, but his body went into overdrive as the blood began to flow down Ianto’s torso as he completed the cuts.

“You want to see me in autopsy?” Ianto asked, his voice low and rough. He leaned down and kissed Jack – tenderly, sadly – and Jack felt Ianto’s blood, hot and sticky, pooling against his chest. Against Jack’s lips, Ianto whispered, “I can arrange that.”

Jack blinked as Ianto sat back, that strange expression still on his face. “Ianto?”

Very carefully, with a focused expression, Ianto used the razor to open up the radial and ulnar arteries along each arm. His cuts were precise and deep, and ran midway up his forearms. Despite Jack beginning to struggle beneath him, screaming for him to stop, he completed all four incisions in very little time. He tossed the razor onto the bedside table.

“Would you like some water, Sir?” he asked, as though he had not just scared the hell out of Jack.

“Ianto, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I should think that was obvious,” Ianto was staring fascinated at the blood flowing from his veins, pouring onto Jack’s chest at an alarming rate. Then he looked at Jack. His eyes were already glassy. “Oh. Almost forgot.” He got up and walked out of the bedroom, dripping along the way. A moment later, he came back with a cup of coffee in one hand and his wallet in the other. He took a sip of the coffee and gave a small smile. “Last sip, Sir? You’ll miss it more than me, I’m sure.”

“Ianto, untie me. Now!” Jack watched as Ianto set down the mug, then pulled some cash from his wallet. 

“One hundred pounds,” Ianto set the five twenty pound notes on the table, now bloody with his fingerprints. “That’s for Owen. He said, ‘a hundred pounds says that it wouldn’t even occur to Jack to let you come, if you let him top from the bottom.’” Ianto shrugged. “Fair’s fair. You’ll see that he gets that, yeah?”

“Ianto, untie me, godsdamn it!” Jack was struggling against the ropes, but they were not the slipknots that they usually used when playing. And Ianto had somehow reinforced the headboard where he was secured. He could not get loose. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ianto sat on the bed. He reached out and stroked Jack’s face. “I’m tired, Jack. Tired of Owen’s derisiveness and Toshiko’s pity and Gwen’s smugness and your… indifference. I know I’m just a placeholder until you can have Gwen. I know she’s the one you love. And I thought it was enough, the attention you deign to give. But… I’m just so bloody _tired_.”

“Ianto, come on. Untie me. We can fix this. We can retcon you.”

“Won’t work,” Ianto said, shrugging a shoulder. “Already tried it.” At Jack’s widened eyes, he sighed. “When you were gone. I did it. New name, new identity. First morning I decided to have a wank in the shower. Came calling out your name, and remembered everything.” He sniffed. “Tried a second time, too. Woke up a bloody monk. Figured that’d take care of the wanking. Then a slightly older monk grabbed my arse in the library stacks.” He laughed, and it was more hysteria than humor.

“You’re immune to retcon,” Jack whispered, dread filling him. Too much time was passing.

As if reading his mind, Ianto smiled. Held up the stopwatch. “Should take twelve minutes, for someone my height and weight. It’s been nine. Point of no return was seven. If I untie you, will you just…” A tear fell. “I’m pathetic, you see. Will you hold me, or will you try to make some stupid effort that I don’t want, and that it’s too late for?” His words were beginning to slur.

“Untie me, Ianto,” Jack tried to swallow around the lump in this throat. It was the wrong game. Jack had been playing the wrong game, punishing Ianto, for nothing in particular. And Ianto had been testing Jack’s regard. 

Wrong _fucking_ game.

Ianto grabbed the razor and cut the ropes between Jack’s hands and the bedposts. He handed Jack the razor so he could cut free his feet. Then he lay down.

“Ianto,” Jack gathered the younger man in his arms. He was already so cold. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, Jack. You can’t help it, that you love Gwen. Just like I can’t help it, that I…” he looked at Jack, a defiant spark lighting his eyes. “That I love you.” He gulped in a breath of air. “’s not that bad, really. Should’ve let Ewan bleed me, back in the village. Would’ve saved e’ryone a lot of trouble.”

“Don’t say that, Ianto,” Jack felt tears prickling his eyes. He had treated the younger man horribly. Had used him, knowing how he felt about Jack. Knowing he felt nothing for Ianto, other than a sort of lustful awe at his skills as a lover. Owen had been right. Just a part-time shag. It had meant nothing.

Until somehow it did. 

When had Jack become so callous and uncaring? 

When had he gone back to just using people? 

When had the thought of losing Ianto become unbearable?

Ianto drew in another deep breath. “Tell Owen… Tell ‘m thank you.”

“What?” Jack was holding him close, trying to keep him warm.

Another breath. “For setting me free.”

Jack sobbed and Ianto tried to focus on his face. “So beautiful,” he whispered, bloody fingers tracing that jawline, one last time. 

One last breath.

“Jack.”

***


	2. Chapter Two

Jack held Ianto for a long while before getting up and taking a shower. He went down to the SUV and grabbed a body bag and brought it back up. It was gone two in the morning, so he had no trouble loading Ianto into the boot, unseen. He returned to the flat long enough to bag up the bedding, the blade, and the cash, intending them for the Torchwood furnace.

He called the team in as he drove back to the hub. Owen was waiting when he got there, half-pissed, but helped him get the body bag onto the gurney. “Who’ve we got?” he asked, trying to sober up. “Some poor sod get done in by a Weevil?”

“Not exactly,” Jack gritted, grabbing the bin bag and slamming shut the boot.

Gwen and Toshiko arrived just as Owen and Jack moved the bag from the gurney to the autopsy table. 

“What is it, Jack? You promised we could have Friday night off.” Gwen called down as she and Tosh leaned against the railing.

“Open it,” Jack nodded to Owen.

Owen frowned, but then shrugged. He reached for the zip, but Jack stayed his hand. “First, I have a question. I’ve called everyone in. Isn’t anyone going to ask where Ianto is?”

Gwen looked confused. “Why?”

Tosh’s eyes went wide and her hand covered her mouth before a gasp could escape. Owen began cursing as he unzipped the body bag and only got louder and more vehement as he peeled the sides back to reveal their archivist. “What the fuck, Jack?” he shouted, feeling sick. 

“He said he was tired,” Jack whispered, staring at his dead lover’s face.

Owen continued to pull the bag away, then swore again. “Why the _fuck_ does he have a y-incision cut into him?”

Jack hung his head. He was too ashamed to admit the truth. He shook his head, unwilling to make up some tawdry lie about Ianto being into any kind of cutting or bloodplay.

“And what’s this?” Owen reached over and grabbed the bag. Before Jack could stop him, the cash and the blade fell out of the bag. He picked up both before Jack snatched the bag out of his hands.

“Put it back. I’m going to take it all to the furnace,” Jack gritted.

Owen stared at the twenty pound notes. Five of them. With bloody fingerprints, as though they had been counted out of a wallet, after… He looked sharply at Jack, remembering a particularly nasty wager he had tossed at Ianto, earlier in the day. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. But he’d spotted the lengths of rope in Ianto’s bag, and figure he’d have a go.

“The wages of unkindness,” Jack said, knowing that Owen now knew the part each of them had played in pushing Ianto over the edge.

Gwen was holding Toshiko as she cried. Jack noted that she looked shaken, but not terribly upset. He shook his head. Ianto had died thinking that Jack wanted Gwen. Loved Gwen. But for all their flirting, the truth of the matter was that Jack and Gwen were too alike. Had he truly wanted her, he could have had her, at any point. But the fantasy was more fun. Now he was fairly certain he’d never be able to even flirt with her, ever again.

“What happened?” Tosh asked, when she had calmed.

Owen turned back to the table. He had seen one of Ianto’s arms. He knew what had happened. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. How the hell had it come to this? Teaboy had survived so much. He and Jack had even seemed pretty happy together – one of the reasons Owen had taken the piss so viciously. But why now?

He pulled Ianto’s arm out of the bag and frowned. He looked at Ianto’s chest. The cuts mimicking a y-incision were gone, though the blood remained. “What the hell?” he muttered, looking closely at Ianto’s arm. The cuts were no longer open. He rushed around the table and pulled out the other arm.

“What’s wrong?” Jack turned from the girls to look at Owen.

In the next instant, Ianto drew in a great, gasping breath. Owen tried to catch him as he flailed, barely succeeding in keeping him on the table. The others were too stunned to move. Ianto looked around wildly, trying to get his bearings. He was gasping for breath and clearly in distress. “What?” He looked at the scars on his arms. Ugly, but healed. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” he began screaming.

“Ianto, calm down,” Owen said, trying to keep his own composure. He found a sedative and jabbed it in Ianto’s arm as the younger man began to hyperventilate.

“I was done! Damn it, it finally stopped hurting! Why am I still here?” he asked, desperate for whatever had been done to be undone.

“Ianto, we’re as shocked as you are. C’mon. Try to breathe.” Owen gave him another jab, for good measure.

Ianto looked at Jack, who was staring at him, shocked. Grief and shame had morphed to astonishment and disbelief. Now those feelings were changing once again into a deranged, irrational rage. “What did you do?” Jack snarled at Ianto.

“What did _I_ do?” Ianto asked, startled and incredulous.

“You used some kind of artifact, didn’t you? Thought a little emotional manipulation was in order?” Jack sneered.

Ianto gasped for breath. Whatever was left inside of him that hadn’t been broken already, crumbled. 

“Jack, there’s no such artifact,” Toshiko gritted angrily.

“Well, he’s done something!” Jack bellowed.

Ianto blinked. He looked at Owen, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. “I was done,” he said quietly. “I thought I could finally find some peace. And for a moment…” He took the sheet that Owen offered him and climbed off of the table, wrapping it around his waist.

“I need to look you over,” Owen said quietly.

“Fuck off,” Ianto brushed past Jack and climbed the steps, hurrying past the girls and heading to the showers. He was covered in dried blood, sticky and flaking and starting to itch. After a quick shower, he checked his locker. He reached for the spare suit hanging in there, thankful there was also a pair of shoes.

By the time he was dressed, he had a plan. He re-entered the hub and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jack asked, his voice still harsh. “We need to find out what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything, Jack,” Ianto spat. “But if it makes you feel better, go ahead and blame me.”

“Those were some pretty impressive crocodile tears,” Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “You figure you could turn the knife and then come back, and I’d be so grateful I’d ignore how fucked up that was?”

“Think what you like, Jack,” Ianto turned away and walked through the cog wheel door.

“I’ll follow him,” Tosh grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

“No,” Jack said, grabbing her arm. “Let him go. Whatever he’s done, we know he can’t hurt himself, though I doubt he’d try again, without an audience.” He turned to go to his office.

In the next moment, he felt himself being grabbed and swung around by his arm, and then a resounding slap echoed off all of the surfaces of the hub. “Either you’re a bloody idiot, or the cruelest arsehole that ever drew breath!” Tosh shouted. She gave him a push, for good measure. “And I’m sorry to say that I know you’re not an idiot.”

“He wouldn’t have left this, if he thought he’d come back,” Owen held up the hundred pounds. “I may act otherwise, but I know he has _some_ pride.”

“So, he just pretended to die?” Gwen asked, looking indignant.

“No, he was actually dead,” Owen looked at her like she was an idiot. He waved the cash. “And my money says that he had no reason to suspect that it wasn’t for good.” He looked at Jack with contempt he felt mostly for himself. “I just gave him enough sedative to down a water buffalo, and his distress still had him upright. That’s not something someone can fake.”

“He’ll metabolize it quickly, if he’s somehow siphoned off some of my vortex energy,” Jack was still trying to work out just how Ianto could have done that.

“Jack, it was a dosage I’ve used on you before,” Owen shouted. “Stop being a wanker and listen to reason. This isn’t something he did!”

Jack turned and stalked into his office.

***


	3. Chapter Three

By morning, Jack was still being an arse. He wasn’t prepared to think very deeply on how empty he had felt, for that hour that Ianto had been dead. He, Gwen and Toshiko had begun looking for anything Ianto might have taken from the hub or been exposed to that would have caused his resurrection. Owen had enough blood and tissue from the body bag to begin analyzing.

At mid-day, Owen came up from the med bay, looking grim. “I’ve analyzed his blood matrix, and it’s identical to yours, Jack. Whatever happened, it’s hijacked your healing ability.”

Jack swore and began cursing Ianto for being a manipulative bastard again.

“I will beat the living hell out of you, if you don’t stop,” Tosh shouted. 

Not wanting another stinging slap from his normally mild-mannered technical genius, Jack reined himself in. The woman had bitch-slapped the bejesus out of him, and he wasn’t eager for an encore.

“And it can’t be exactly like Jack. He had scars from where he…” she trailed off, shuddering at the memory of the ugly scars on Ianto’s arms.

“Yeah, but the y-incision injury was gone,” Owen pointed out. “Completely healed.”

Something was tugging an ancient memory at the back of Jack’s mind, but he steadfastly ignored it. It was easier to be angry, right now. Best not to focus on how relieved he was that Ianto Jones was still alive. And the spark of hope that was making the breath catch in his chest was _unacceptable_.

“We need more information, but someone let him just walk out of here,” Owen said, eyeing Jack pointedly.

“You might have objected if I tested whether it would work again,” Jack replied defiantly.

“We should have followed him,” Tosh said, heading for her computer. She began searching for Ianto. Owen and Gwen went to his flat, but he had not returned to it, judging by the fact that his wallet, phone, and keys were still there.

After several hours of searching, Tosh sat back from her computer. “He knows how to avoid CCTV, and there’s no image of him, once he leaves the Plass. Jack,” she looked thoughtful. “Does he have a bolt hole?”

Jack blinked. He honestly had no idea, and he was realizing that not knowing bothered him. “I don’t know. But he must have kept Lisa somewhere, before he moved her in here.”

Toshiko nodded. She pulled up Ianto’s financial information, zeroing in on the weeks after Canary Wharf, when the government had made quick payouts to the survivors. She had gone through the records just after the incident, but had not paid close attention. A cursory view had shown most of the money had been spent on medical equipment and a “fee” for Dr. Tanizaki. Now as she dug deeper, she saw some transfers that were a bit more obscure.

It was mid-day Sunday before Tosh unraveled the quagmire of financial mischief and came up with the address of a remote warehouse on the edge of town. Jack sent the three team members to retrieve Ianto. 

When they arrived at the warehouse, they entered cautiously. They were taking in the scene and had only just spotted Ianto lying in a heap on the floor when he gave a great gasp, and then a sob.

“No,” he cried miserably. He looked around him and fished his gun out of the soup he was sitting in.

“Ianto,” Owen said, his voice gentle. Trying not to let his boots slip in the blood, he knelt down about five feet away, facing Ianto.

“Leave me alone,” Ianto choked. “Or fix this. Make it so…” he gazed at the pistol in his hand.

Gwen heaved onto the floor when she realized what it was Ianto was sitting in. He was surrounded by a very large pool of blood, skull fragments, and brain matter. Beside him was a large box of ammunition that was almost empty. Ianto had been missing for thirty-three hours, and he had been shooting himself in the head for twenty-five of them.

The first few hours had been tidier. It had taken him an hour to get to the warehouse, being careful that he could not have been followed or spotted on CCTV. He had found a group of drug dealers squatting in the building, which came in handy, actually. He had killed the three thugs in the firefight, and then succumbed to his own wounds. When he revived, he found their stash. 

The first overdose had been a speedball. He’d stayed dead for a bit more than two hours. The second was straight heroin, but it only lasted an hour. In all, he’d overdosed seven times in the five hours before he ran out of drugs.

Then he found the gun and box of ammunition. There was now a preponderance of evidence showing that he could not stay dead. But each death was beginning to take a bit more time to come back from. He kept hoping that maybe if he could just stay dead long enough, it would take…

He looked back at Owen. “Why would he think that I would want this?” he whispered. “I see what it does to him, each time.”

“Ianto, you need to stop,” Owen said, horrified at the scene before him. He saw from the corner of his eye that Toshiko was filming everything.

“What must he think of me, that he thought I didn’t understand?” Ianto stared at the gun, feeling even lower than he had when he had climbed onto Jack with the razor. 

“Ianto, stop,” Owen edged closer.

Ianto raised the gun and pressed the muzzle to his chest, just over his heart. Owen saw the holes in his shirt, the scorch marks from other attempts at the heart rather than the head. He had a flash of insight that Ianto didn’t want to upset Toshiko by blowing his brains out again. He looked at Owen, an expression of absolute anguish on his face as he pulled the trigger before the doctor could reach him.

Ianto flopped back into the morass of blood and brains, blue eyes staring at nothing.

They found a blanket to wrap him in and placed him in the boot of the SUV that Tosh had lined with bin bags. Tosh climbed in with Ianto, not wanting him to revive alone in the boot. Not after the number of deaths he had just endured.

The next twenty-four hours were grueling for the team. Ianto had revived in the med bay, shortly after Tosh and Owen had cleaned him up and dressed him in a set of scrubs. Before Owen could sedate him, Ianto grabbed a scalpel and cut his own throat. The next time he revived, Owen had strapped him down, but Ianto somehow escaped the restraints and ran for the hub. Gwen had left her pistol on her desk, and he made use of it before they could stop him.

He went for the heart again, because he’d noticed that he revived more slowly, that way.

Additional restraints did not keep him from the alien poison Owen had been testing. Ianto died screaming as the poison ate away at his internal organs like acid. The next time he revived, he escaped to the cells. Janet wouldn’t come near her favorite food-bringer – his desperate panic frightened her. But her cellmates had no such compunction.

Ianto next woke up in one of the cells. As soon as he was strong enough to stand, he lowered his head and ran at the wall, breaking his neck.

When he revived next, he was trussed up in a straight-jacket and strapped to the hard bench in the cell. Even his head was strapped down. He was completely immobilized. 

It brought back unpleasant memories…

***


	4. Chapter Four

As the flashbacks began in earnest, Ianto began to scream. He was thrust back to another time. Another straightjacket. He was fourteen when his father cracked his mother’s skull open in front of their son. Ianto had barely escaped the ensuing beating with his life. 

It had taken his sanity a while to catch back up. It was in Providence Park that Ianto had learned to escape restraints and locked rooms. There were few that he could not Houdini his way out of, but Jack and Owen had apparently figured this out. It was an alien straightjacket, and Ianto was so lost that he could not focus enough to figure it out.

The next flashback had him in a conversion unit. His head had been immobilized by the metal fittings, but the Cybermen had changed their minds. They had stopped the conversion, looking at some sort of reading. Ianto had heard the words “Incompatible” and “Delete” before everything began to be sucked towards the void. The only reason he wasn’t carried away as well was because of the restraints. Once the unholy wind had stopped blowing, he had calmed himself enough to escape and find Lisa.

Now he could not calm himself. His mind was a gibbering mess. With his hope of escape had gone his sanity. All that was left was the howling pain.

So he howled his pain.

Owen was working on a sedative, but could not seem to find a formula that would simply allow Ianto to sleep. He was too distressed for its effects to properly calm him. Jack was angry again, still seeming to blame Ianto and stubbornly ignoring the younger man’s pain and anguish.

Gwen had turned off the sound to the CCTV in the cells. She couldn’t take the screaming, though they could still hear it, drifting up from the lower levels. Since returning to the hub, Ianto had committed suicide five times in twenty hours. He’d been screaming for the last four, at least. Tosh was running tests on formulas as fast as Owen could come up with them. So far, they had been unable to come up with anything that would work.

A few hours before, between suicides, Gwen and Tosh had gone back to clear the warehouse. Gwen had complained about the mess the whole time, while Tosh was reminded that it was usually Ianto who took care of such things, without ever making a peep.

She counted ninety shell casings.

She gathered them up and threw them at Jack, gore and all, when they got back to the hub. He had glared at her, but otherwise did not react.

If Owen’s swearing was anything to go by, the latest test had just failed. All of a sudden, a grinding, wheezing noise heralded the arrival of the TARDIS. She landed right in the hub, which was unprecedented.

Jack, relieved at the prospect of getting some answers, came up short when he got a good look at the old girl. She was a little bigger, a lot brighter, and had a new emblem on her door. He stroked the door and said, “Love the makeover, Gorgeous,” just before the door opened.

He backed up as four people exited the TARDIS. Jack eyed the first to leave – a man wearing a tweed coat and a bowtie. He had floppy hair and looked entirely too young, until you got a proper look at his eyes. “Doctor?”

“New look,” the Doctor smiled, spreading his arms wide. “But you haven’t seen the last of the old one, so you know you’ll need to keep this mum.” As Jack nodded, he looked around and smiled at the team. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. Meet River, Rory, and Amy.” He looked around as Jack introduced Gwen, Toshiko, and Owen. Jack had the impression that the Doctor was looking for someone.

The Doctor smiled and nodded at each of the team members, wondering where the one they had come to see might be. His smile faltered as the sound of Ianto’s screams made their way up from the lower levels. “Jack, what has happened?” he frowned. “Someone is in agony.”

“It’s Ianto,” Jack answered. “Something has happened. He… he might be fixed, like me. We can’t figure out what he’s done, to cause it. And we… he keeps committing suicide…”

“So you locked him in a cell?” River, the woman with a head full of wild curls and a fierce expression, was looking at them in disbelief.

The Doctor handed her his sonic. “Go get him, River.”

“He’s dangerous!” Gwen called out.

River sent her a contemptuous look before heading to the lower levels.

“How does she know…” Tosh looked curious, but decided not to ask.

“DAD! COME QUICKLY!” River cried out in the next moment.

Everyone looked confused as Rory, the young man who had been leaning against the TARDIS with the ginger woman leaning against him, disentangled himself and ran after River.

“What brings you to Cardiff?” Jack asked, feeling a bit peeved at the Doctor and his companions for just barging into his hub. He began to feel self-conscious when the Doctor simply stared at him as though trying to work out a puzzle.

Downstairs, River had gained access to Ianto’s cell. She took one look, then called out to her father before dropping down beside the stone bunk and running a hand through Ianto’s hair. “Ianto? Ianto, Sweetie, look at me.”

Ianto stopped screaming. He whimpered and as much as he could, turned his head into her hand, clearly attempting to soak in the small comfort her touch provided. A cold, hard rage began to form in her belly. All he had needed to stop screaming was the slightest attention. 

She was sorely tempted to return to the upper level and kill Jack with her bare hands.

“Ianto, my name is River. You don’t know me yet, but the first time I met you, you helped me. You told me you were returning the favor, because the first time you met me, I helped you. I suppose that’s today. Now, I know you’re hurting, but I promise you, you’re going to be fine. We can help you, if you’ll let us. But I need for you to promise me you won’t try to kill yourself again.”

He looked at her, his eyes so full of pain that she began crying. “Please help me. I’m so tired. I don’t want to be ‘fine’. I just want it all to stop.”

Rory entered the cell and began swearing under his breath.

“I know, Sweetie, and it will. I promise you. Just not this way.” She continued to run her hand through his hair, which was stiff with blood and gore. The rage redoubled as she realized they had not bothered to clean him up. He mewled at the contact, and she stroked his cheek with one hand and ran the other along his arm. She sighed. “Let me try to help you. If you’re not feeling better in a month,” she jumped when he flinched, moaning in pain at the thought of living another month. Her breath caught on a small sob. “Okay, if you’re not feeling better in two weeks, then I will help you explore alternatives. You can hold out for two more weeks, yeah?”

Ianto cried. Never mind that he wasn’t even sure that he _could_. He didn’t _want_ to. But something about this woman soothed him. The fact that she was sitting here with him, willing to comfort him when no one else could be arsed to even sit with him went an awfully long way. He looked at her and nodded.

He had barely even begun the gesture when Rory began removing the restraints, introducing himself to Ianto as he worked. Soon enough they had him up and helped him stumble to the upper level. Rory was speaking in low, comforting tones and carrying most of Ianto’s weight. He also seemed to know Ianto, and again, Ianto simply knew he could trust him.

***


	5. Chapter Five

Once upstairs, they encountered an awkward silence. The Doctor and Amy had just stood, waiting for River and Rory to return, refusing to answer any of Jack’s questions. River looked daggers at Jack. “Sweetie, we need to leave. Now.”

“Doctor?” Jack looked surprised and angry. “You can’t just take him.”

“Why not?” River spat, and the Doctor looked at her, clearly wondering where her ire was coming from. “If you’re just going to tie him up and stick him in a cell and let him scream and suffer, why wouldn’t you want us to take him off your hands? We’re at least willing to help him,” she snarled.

“Jack?” the Doctor frowned at Jack. “He’s in pain, and you just locked him up and let him scream?”

Owen stepped in, feeling defensive. “We had him up here, but he killed himself, every bloody time we turned our backs.”

“Then don’t turn your backs!” River roared.

Ianto whimpered into Rory’s shoulder. Rory was holding him up on his right side, and Amy was hugging him, holding him up on the left. The Doctor turned and took his sonic screwdriver from River and scanned him. He nodded as though confirming something to himself and turned back to Jack.

“He can’t stay dead either.” Not a question, but an invitation to begin relaying information.

“Yeah, we just found out, Friday night.”

“Alien?”

Jack found his feet very interesting, all of a sudden. “He opened up the arteries in his wrists.”

The Doctor glanced at River, who looked even more enraged. “So he bled to death, and then came back?”

Jack nodded.

“Then what happened?”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his chin forward. “He revived. We don’t know why. He’s just an _ordinary_ human,” he sneered. He ignored the fact that Rory and Amy suddenly took on a bit more of Ianto’s weight as he silently sobbed into Rory’s shoulder. “We started to look for what he might have done. The assumption is that either he used something or was exposed to something that bled off enough of my vortex energy to have this effect.”

The Doctor’s face became cold and hard as Jack spoke. “Every human is ordinary, Jack. Including you.” He turned and stroked a hand through Ianto’s hair as he spoke to the fragile young man, eliciting a whimper as Ianto leaned slightly into the comfort of his hand. “And every human is extraordinary, as well. Never forget that, Ianto. We’ve met before, you see. Many times, now. I count you among my friends. And I do not give my friendship lightly.”

The Doctor turned back to Jack. “You didn’t used to be cruel or unkind, Jack.” Jack flinched as though the Doctor had struck him, but the Doctor continued. “Then what happened?”

“He left while we tried to see what might have happened,” Jack replied, more subdued.

“You let him leave? By himself?” Amy asked, looking appalled. “But he’d just killed himself!”

“Well, we knew whatever else he might try to do, it wouldn’t take,” Gwen shrugged, echoing Jack’s words from earlier.

Jack shuddered, realizing just how callous that sounded.

“This, from the _heart_ of Torchwood,” Toshiko said snidely. She looked at the Doctor. “It took us thirty-three hours to find him. When we did,” she sniffed, looking at Ianto, who was clinging to Rory.

“We think he spent most of that time killing himself,” Owen admitted.

The Doctor turned to Ianto. “How many times?”

Ianto let out another sob.

“I know you know. How many times, Ianto?”

“One hundred and four altogether, including the first time, and the ones here,” Ianto muttered.

Rory pulled Ianto closer. Amy sobbed. River looked furious. Toshiko cried onto Owen’s shoulder. Even the surly Londoner looked shaken. The Doctor turned back to Jack, who had paled considerably. “And so you just locked him up.”

“Not at first,” Jack said quickly. “But he kept killing himself. We were trying to figure out a way to sedate him.”

“All four of you?” River asked sardonically. Jack was an old friend, but now she was wondering why that might be. His behavior was sickening.

The Doctor turned and scanned Ianto, once more. Then he scanned Jack. As he read the results, Jack spoke. “Is he a fixed point, now? Is he wrong, like me?”

The Doctor sighed. “I was the one in the wrong, Jack, saying such a thing to you. And no, he’s not fixed, so much as _affixed_.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jack asked.

“It means that your first question shouldn’t have been what Ianto did, but what _you_ did,” River seethed.

“Me?”

“It is, as you said, _your_ vortex. Your healing factor,” the Doctor pointed out. “Jack, do you remember anything about where you came from?”

“Boeshane?” Jack asked. “What has that got to do with anything?”

The Doctor rubbed his forehead. He looked at River, who shrugged a shoulder. She was annoyed enough that breaking it gently was no longer a concern. He sighed. “Jack, the people of Boeshane evolved a very unique mating process. Do you remember anything about it?”

“Mating?” Gwen snorted.

Ignoring her, Jack frowned. “Something about the elder partner… ruling,”

The Doctor nodded. “That’s sort of the gist of it. So based on what you’ve told us in the past – well, your future, actually – we know that your mother was the elder partner, because she survived your father’s death.”

Jack frowned. “What?”

The Doctor sighed. “Had your father been the elder partner, your mother would not have survived his death. The elder partner dictates the lifespan of the couple, once they have bonded.”

“That doesn’t seem very practical,” Tosh frowned. “A significantly younger partner’s life would be cut very short. And children would be orphaned. And how does that even work, to begin with?”

“It is an evolutionary anomaly,” River explained. “Unique to those that colonized Boeshane. It works as a psychological and biological construct. The anomaly was rare enough that it was gone within a handful of generations.”

“But what does that have to do with…” Jack trailed off, looking at Ianto, who was now dozing against Rory’s chest. He had the sudden urge to rip Rory’s face off. The centurion merely tightened his hold on Ianto and raised an eyebrow, informing Jack that he was welcome to try, but it might not go so well, for him. Jack shuddered at the subtle shift from youthful companion to hardened warrior.

“So you didn’t do it on purpose?” the Doctor asked, wide-eyed. River was shaking her head in chagrin, though there was the tiniest smile on her lips.

Toshiko was looking from the Doctor to Jack, and River could tell she was tallying two plus two. River spotted the moment Tosh arrived at four, when her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

“Do what on purpose?” Jack asked, exasperated. He was beginning to feel panic slither through his belly, and he was trying to ward it off.

“Well, you seem to have inadvertently bonded yourself to Ianto,” the Doctor said.

“Mazel-tov,” Rory deadpanned. “Look, he’s literally passed out on his feet. Amy and I are taking him in.”

“Don’t leave him alone, Dad,” River said, though she knew she needn’t. Rory waved a hand to acknowledge her request. “And please clean him up. Once he’s resting, hold his hand, touch his hair. _Comfort_ him, for crying out loud!” As the TARDIS door closed, she rounded on Jack and the others. “It only took one touch for him to stop screaming,” she glared accusingly.

The others looked shocked to hear this. Tosh began crying again.

Jack was staring at the Doctor, who stared right back. “I did this to him?” Jack’s voice broke.

“And then you accused him of doing something to you,” the Doctor replied.

“Can it be undone?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“How did I _bond_ to him? How did I bond to him, _accidentally_?”

“Are you certain it was accidental?” River asked, a glint of humor in her eye.

“Hey, I have a feeling this isn’t like waking up in Blackpool with a new tattoo and married to a stripper,” Owen snarked. “How can something this serious be done without intention?”

“It can’t,” the Doctor said, still staring steadily at Jack. 

“But Teaboy’s just his part-time shag. We all know that. Even Teaboy. Everyone knows it’s Gwen Jack wants.”

Gwen tried to look scandalized, even as she preened.

“Not possible. Bonding can’t happen without a deep, mutual regard. So either Jack’s lying to us or to himself.”

“Or both,” River said.

The Doctor shrugged. “Could be both.”

“I want it to be undone,” Jack said. “You asked if I want it to be, and yes. I don’t want him to be cursed, like this.”

The Doctor sighed. “I’m sorry, Jack. It can’t be undone.”

“But you said…”

“No, I didn’t. I wanted to know what you thought of the bond. And you still haven’t told me. Immortality aside, what is your opinion?”

Jack felt a warm glow in his belly at the thought of the young archivist being his. But he was in no way ready to admit that, even to himself. The emotion flashed briefly in his eyes, but he quickly masked it as he shook his head. River and the Doctor were quicker, though. They glanced at one another with a small smile.

“Well, Jack, we’re giving you the gift of time and distance. The effect of both on the bond will give you plenty to think about.”

“Will it hurt Ianto?” Jack asked, his feelings now swinging wildly between concern for and anger at Ianto.

“No, that’s not how it works, thank the gods,” River said. “He has enough to heal from, without pining for _you_.” She didn’t add that he probably still would. Jack’s words had clearly hurt Ianto too much for her to hope for his indifference.

“Jack, I have to warn you. Once he recovers, even if he wishes to return, he may continue to reject the attachment, even if the bond cannot be broken.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that, while the elder partner rules the lifespan, the younger partner determines whether there is any… _partnership_, during that lifespan.”

“You’re being too subtle and kind, Sweetie,” River smirked. “First time for everything. What he’s saying, Jack, is that your lifespan has given Ianto immortality. However, it is up to Ianto to consent to any ongoing attachment, and the bond will make you incapable of disregarding his wishes on the matter. For the moment, he has rejected it.”

“How can you tell?” Owen asked, curious.

“Because he killed himself,” River answered, though not unkindly.

“So it’s up to _him_ to decide whether we’ll be together?” Jack asked, still looking annoyed.

“It balances the power in the relationship,” the Doctor explained. “You have forced the bond, and now Ianto must face immortality. But Ianto can accept or reject any attachment through the bond, at any time. If you decide you want to be with him, and he rejects the attachment, then you must then face an empty bond.” He paused before adding, “An empty bond is… well.”

River gave Jack a hard look. “If we return, it will be when he is be healthy enough to demand a proper place in your life. No more of this ‘ordinary’ or ‘part-time shag’ fuckery. No more being discounted, denigrated, and taken for granted. You’ll have to court him properly, so you may want to remind yourself how that’s done.”

“And it will be ongoing,” the Doctor added. “Boeshanian bondmates have been known to come together and drift apart many times, during their lives together. Each time, re-establishing the connection will be Ianto’s choice.”

Jack’s head was swimming. “Sounds like he has all the power.”

“Except that you’re the one who did this, and without his conscious consent.”

“Not on purpose!” Jack protested.

River gave a derisive snort.

“Wait. How could Jack force his _biology_ on Ianto, if they’re at different places in human evolution, or rather if Ianto doesn’t even share the evolutionary anomaly?” Owen asked.

“By Jack’s time, all it takes is an emotional attachment between two people. As long as there’s that, and as I said, a deep, mutual regard, then if the elder partner has the anomaly, he or she can force the bond. There’s a ritual. It serves as a psychological trigger that activates a biological response. The response then behaves very much like a virus, affecting the younger partner’s DNA.” 

“It’s not a virus,” River clarified. “But the way the bond is established – the elder partner’s DNA transferring to the younger – it behaves in a similar manner.”

Owen was frowning. "So… Would it have made Ianto ill, as his system adjusted?”

“Yes,” River nodded. “Like a very aggressive flu.”

Tosh and Owen nodded, remembering when it must have happened. Soon after Tommy, Ianto had become dangerously ill with what was, symptomatically, much like the flu. But they could find no virus in his system. All Owen had been able to do was treat the symptoms and keep an uncharacteristically unconcerned Jack off of Ianto’s back for not being at work.

The Doctor reached out and squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “I think you have some soul-searching to do, Jack. River, transfer some research materials to Jack, so he can become reacquainted with the biological imperatives of his home world.”

River nodded and headed into the TARDIS. The Doctor looked at Jack. “If he chooses to return, we’ll bring him back, once he’s well enough.” He hesitated before adding, “If he decides he does not wish to return, I will not force him to. But I will let you know, so you’re not left to wonder.”

Jack nodded, feeling flummoxed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some clarification has been requested, so here goes. The Boeshanian genetic anomaly dictates death, not life. Normally, the younger partner can die of unnatural causes, but their natural lifespan is dictated by the older partner. When the older partner dies (no matter the cause), so does the younger. 
> 
> Where it gets tricky, and the only reason that Ianto revives from unnatural deaths, is that Jack's DNA isn't standard issue, any more. So when Jack's DNA overwrote Ianto's, Ianto got enough of the vortex to be tied to Jack, no matter what, until he dies (NOT as the Face of Boe, by the way. Never ever. Ever. (I mean it.)). That's why the Doctor called him "affixed", rather than "fixed".
> 
> Hope that helps! And thanks for reading!! :)


	6. Chapter Six

Once the Doctor guided the TARDIS into the vortex, he and River went in search of the others. They found them in a room the TARDIS had created for Ianto. The walls and linens were all rich jewel tones that contrasted sharply with the startlingly pale young man lying against the pillows. He seemed to be hovering somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness.

Rory and Amy had helped him take a sonic shower – much quicker than one with water and extremely thorough, which was definitely needed, given the amount of blood and organic matter that had dried in Ianto’s hair and on his skin.

Amy was curled next to Ianto on the far side of the bed, with one arm slung protectively across his waist. Rory was sitting next to Ianto, holding his hand. As he softly sang what sounded like a Roman lullaby, he ran his other hand through Ianto’s hair. 

River crawled between Rory and Ianto, lying down and mimicking her mother’s hold on him without disrupting Rory’s attentions. The Doctor went around the bed and sat on the far side of Amy, taking Ianto’s free hand. He pulled out his sonic and scanned their friend. Looking at the readings, he sighed.

“Tell us,” River demanded quietly, looking up at the Doctor as Rory continued to sing.

The Doctor sighed. “One hundred and four deaths. He could have easily died again, from exhaustion, alone. He’s dehydrated and malnourished. Severe PTSD was triggered by the restraints. And his mind has… broken from reality.”

“What do we do?” Amy asked, looking frightened but determined.

“We let him sleep. Rory, can you get a leech and an IV? Sexy will have the proper mixture of fluids ready by the time you get there. Bring a few bags. He still has far too many drugs in his system, and we need to flush them out.”

“Drugs?” Rory asked, pausing at the door.

“From the looks of it, several deaths were overdoses of illicit drugs.”

“How many?” Amy asked as Rory left, cursing under his breath.

“Between five and ten overdoses, judging by the amount and mixture still in his system,” the Doctor looked pained. “He told us it was bad, I remember that. But I’d have never guessed it was as bad as this.”

“No,” River replied quietly. She had sat up and took Rory’s place running a hand through Ianto’s hair. They said little until Rory returned, attaching the small metal leech used for waste disposal to Ianto’s lower back and setting up the IV. River huffed. “I find myself extremely angry with Jack.”

“Well, try not to be too hard on him,” the Doctor said quietly. He held up a hand to forestall the angry retorts of both Amy and River. “If, in a moment of passion and sentiment, he unconsciously bonded to Ianto, and I am inclined to believe that is what happened, then it is entirely possible he didn’t realize what he’d done. Added to that, he’s likely forgotten most of what he ever knew about his home world. That also tells me he didn’t intend to do it.”

“What makes you say that?” Amy asked.

“Alone, for hundreds of years, details of where he’s from faded away, long ago. Those he loves either fear or hate him – except for Ianto, of course, but our friend here is the exception. And everyone Jack has ever loved has eventually died on him, even if they didn’t run from him or push him away.” He sighed. “By the time he met Ianto, Jack had long considered his immortality a curse. He never would have consciously imposed it on another.”

“But by this point in his timeline, he has begun to love Ianto, though he can’t yet admit it,” River nodded, understanding the Doctor’s reasoning. “So he did it, unconsciously.”

“And then, not realizing the bonding had happened, and having the tendency to run from the intensity of feeling that would have precipitated the bond combined to result in a hormonal imbalance. I am certain that it raised feelings that were… less than loving. It probably affected his behavior.”

“In what way?” Rory asked.

“It could very well be the reason for how he has been treating Ianto.” He shook his head. “Ianto has survived terrible things, up to this point in his timeline. To give up on living means he finally reached a breaking point and gave up on Jack. He probably wouldn’t have done that, had Jack been treating him well.”

“And Jack was ashamed, describing that first suicide,” River added.

The Doctor reached around Amy to stroke Ianto’s hair. He could sense the psychic, mental, and emotional discord beginning to settle, thanks to the comfort and closeness they were providing. He also sensed the TARDIS soothing him. “Ianto accepted the bond as unconsciously as Jack offered it. But in committing suicide that first time, he rejected the attachment.”

“You need to explain this bond and attachment thing,” Rory said.

“Boeshanian bonding is a two part process. There is a ritual that the elder uses – really it is a psychological trigger that activates the biological process. The elder partner’s DNA is then introduced to the younger partner, very much like a virus.”

“But not a virus,” River insisted. “It’s important not to reduce this to something vituperative. And if there is not a mutual regard, the younger partner is immune to the process. But if the younger partner’s system allows the process, then their DNA is mapped to the elder partner’s.”

The Doctor nodded. “Once established, it’s a two-fold construct. First is the bond, which is simply a conduit. Once established by the elder partner, it is there, whether either partner wants it there, or not. But if neither wants it, they can generally ignore it. Next is the attachment. It is always offered by the elder partner, and the younger partner can either accept or reject it.”

“The offering of the attachment is ongoing,” River added. “If the elder partner neglects the offering, the younger partner may reject it at any time. But a relationship ending because the elder partner has ceased offering is rare, because as the one who established the bond to begin with, the elder partner will almost always… crave the attachment.”

“So what’s to stop the younger partner from rejecting the offering in a strop?” Amy asked.

“It’s another psychological process that affects the biology. It’s essentially another ritual. So the rejection cannot happen in a fit of temper,” River said.

“Unless you count suicide,” the Doctor added. “But that’s not what happened, here. The rejection was a byproduct of the suicide. If Jack didn’t know about the bonding, Ianto certainly didn’t. Though Jack deliberately not offering the attachment would have been confusing and painful to Ianto. It may well have contributed to whatever despair drove his actions.”

“And so his death caused the rejection,” River added.

“How can you tell?” Amy asked.

The Doctor turned Ianto’s hand in his and ran his fingers along the thick, ropy scars. He watched as Rory did the same with Ianto’s other arm before checking the IV line again. “These scars did not fully heal. Ianto is immortal, now, and under normal circumstances, they should have. The only reason they would not is, again, hormonal.”

“The rejection caused a backflow of hormones that affected the healing?” River asked.

The Doctor nodded.

“I don’t remember him having them. So they’ll eventually go away, right?” Amy asked, sitting up and also tracing her fingers along the scars. She gave a shudder at the thought of what Ianto had done, believing he was mortal. Tears gently fell at the realization of how much he had been hurting, to be that desperate and unhappy.

The Doctor sighed. “He’ll develop the ability to mask them, but no. I don’t think they’ll ever go away.” It was a pity, really. A moment of vulnerability, combined with a hormonal reaction meant that Ianto would always carry these scars. But for Jack, perhaps the reminder was not a bad thing… He shook his head. “Jack is not a cruel man. And yet…”

“And yet I would not have recognized him,” River said, frowning. “I can’t believe he was blaming Ianto.”

“The backflow of hormones likely made him angry and hostile. He was not behaving rationally. Blaming Ianto was a completely illogical reaction,” the Doctor pointed out. “I believe that the backflow hit him, very hard, as soon as Ianto revived.” He sighed. “That will settle down now, though.”

“How do you mean?” Rory asked.

“It’s like a stormy sea,” the Doctor explained. “The rejection was the wind, but now it’s done. As the wind dies down, the sea will calm.”

“And how will Ianto’s absence affect him?”

“It will be difficult. Deep down, he wants the relationship, which is why he bonded with Ianto, in the first place. But Ianto has rejected the attachment, so now the bond is empty. It’s nothing he can’t become accustomed to, but…” he shrugged. At the moment, he was annoyed with Jack, so he wasn’t certain a bit of ongoing, vague discomfort was uncalled for.

“So he’ll have this craving, but with Ianto gone, he won’t be able to do anything about it?” Amy asked.

The Doctor nodded. “I doubt more than a few hours will pass before he finds himself highly motivated to do whatever he can to make things right with Ianto.”

“And what about Ianto?” Rory asked, a tender caress continuing to trace the scars on his friend’s arm. “Will the separation pain him?”

The Doctor shook his head. “The empty bond will not pain him. But he must have been suffering greatly, to have done this to himself. That has not changed.”

“Is there someone who can help him?” Amy asked.

“We’ll get him physically stabilized,” the Doctor answered. “I think the comfort of friends, even ones he doesn’t know yet, will help. Then we can take him to Gaenor, in the Liliwen sector in the sixty-seventh century. They are particularly good at treating mental illness.”

“So… he _can_ be treated?” Amy asked, her voice unsure. She had never seen anyone quite so broken, and it frightened her.

“Of course! You’ve seen the result for yourself, several years ago, now,” the Doctor smiled gently and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “By the sixty-seventh century, they have developed the ability to efficiently heal the physical neurological damage done by mental and emotional neglect, abuse, and trauma. From there, working through the rest becomes a bit more straightforward.”

They all nodded and settled in for the night, none of them wanting to leave the young man alone.

***

Ianto woke screaming for his mother, memories long buried having been awakened by the PTSD. He eventually calmed himself enough to notice he was surrounded by warm bodies, with several sets of strong arms wrapped around him. None of them Jack’s, but incredibly comforting, nonetheless. He felt Rory’s stubble on his left shoulder and River’s soft curls on his right. He vaguely wondered where his clothes were, but not enough to be concerned. Deep down, beneath the heartbreak and insanity, he somehow knew he could trust these people.

“Tell us,” Rory whispered.

Ianto shook his head, sobbing.

“Let it out, Sweetie,” River encouraged, rubbing his back. “Let it out, and it won’t have such power over you.”

For a long while, it seemed like he would not speak. But then, “He killed her,” Ianto said, his voice as broken as his heart and mind. “He killed her, and it was my fault.”

“No, Theasaurus,” Rory whispered, his heart breaking.[1] “His actions were his own.”

Ianto snuffled, and River handed him a tissue. “What happened?”

Ianto shuddered. “My… _father_,” he spat the word with disdain, “was about to have a go at me for getting caught shoplifting.” He snorted. “First and last time, getting caught. He wasn’t upset about the thieving, but he was absolutely tamping that I’d got caught. Me mam, she got between us. He started throttling her.” He sniffed again.

River tightened her hold on him, and Rory kissed his shoulder, pulling Ianto against his chest. Ianto was so tired, he closed his eyes and rested his head against Rory’s shoulder, unconsciously nuzzling into his neck. Somehow, he found the strength to finish the horrid story, hoping they spoke the truth when they said the telling of it would somehow release him from the horror of remembering it.

“I hit him, trying to get him off of her. He knocked me down and then,” he sobbed. “He had her by the head, and he slammed her against the wall, again and again and _again_,” he choked, shaking his head. “He’d hit me so hard… it knocked the wind from me. I couldn’t get to him before… When he finally let her go, she slid down the wall, her eyes empty and glassy and blood painting the wall. I just knew…”

He sobbed again. “I tried to get away. I made it as far as the door, but he just beat me there, on the front doorstep. The neighbors pulled him away before he could finish me off, and someone went inside and found me mam and called the Heddlu.”

He went on to describe how something inside him had broken, and even once he woke from the terrible beating he’d taken, he was incoherent with pain and grief and guilt. They sent him to Providence Park, where he spent several months refusing to speak and learning how to break out of every restraint and room they put him in, just for something to do. By the time he was released, he’d missed ten weeks of school, but still managed to catch up enough to pass the year. 

Average student, indeed.

“I couldn’t save her. It’s why I was so determined to save Lisa.” He snorted, a sound full of anger and self-loathing. “Fucked that up, too.”

He fell silent, then. After a while, he calmed, and his fatigue reclaimed him and they lay him back down. Rory was ashen when he looked up at the Doctor. “Did you know any of this?” He vowed never to complain about his father, ever again.

The Doctor shook his head. “No. Well, I knew about Lisa.” At their questioning looks, he quickly explained about Canary Wharf and how hard Ianto had fought to save his girlfriend. “Being restrained must have brought all of this back up,” he said sadly.

He climbed from the bed and made his way to the med bay, where he prepared a cocktail of medicines designed to induce calm and a deep, dreamless sleep. He returned and administered the mixture through the IV. “He should sleep for quite a while, now. Once he wakes, we’ll take him to Gaenor.”

***

[1] Latin for Treasure – Hey, it’s Rory the Roman…


	7. Chapter Seven

The Doctor had been correct. The TARDIS had not been gone for two hours before the emptiness of the bond hit Jack like a ton of Weevils. As soon as the Doctor flew off with Ianto (and the _Ianto is alive!_ thought battling with the _Ianto is gone!_ thought already had him reeling), he locked himself in his office and began poring over the materials that River had beamed to them.

As he read, he slowly remembered his home world. He remembered the genetic anomalies and how his people dealt with them. He remembered his parents. In reading about the ritual establishing a bond, he also remembered the night before they sent Tommy back. The words he had spoken to Ianto. That kiss…

They had made love that night. Not just sex or shagging or fucking. They had made love with an intensity that had scared the hell out of Jack, by the next morning. Now he knew why. The words he had whispered in Ianto’s ear, against his lips, into his skin… They weren’t, as he’d thought at the time, a simple love poem he had remembered. They were the words for the Boeshanian bonding ritual. 

Jack had not realized it. Had not even realized he knew the words were part of a ritual. He had been so overcome with the intensity and emotion of the moment – both of which Ianto was returning is spades – that to his mind he was speaking what he would never be able to admit to the younger man, in the words of a lovely poem that was all he could remember of his home world. Words of love and longing for more time with Ianto. Words of Jack’s affection, of wanting the younger man by his side, always.

And the Doctor could say what he wanted about Jack forcing the bond. Clearly he had. But he knew just enough Welsh to know that Ianto’s whispered responses were words of love and promises that whatever time he had left now belonged to Jack. The bond could not have been forced without Ianto’s love matching Jack’s own.

Jack had always been so careful not to slip into his native tongue with his lovers, primarily because none had known he was an alien. Not even Lucia, who knew of his immortality and time travel, but not his home world. Of all his lovers, only Ianto had known, so it was only Ianto that Jack had ever spoken to in his native language. So only Ianto could ever have been at risk, Jack realized.

For more reasons than one…

As he read, he understood that the hormonal imbalance caused by his rejection of the bond – or, more accurately, his refusal to reliably offer the attachment along the bond, despite the yearning to do so – had caused his behavior towards Ianto in recent weeks. It had ranged from neglect to downright nastiness, with a good dose of rough sex thrown in as a futile attempt to assuage the desire that was so much deeper than physical. 

Compounding it was the incident where Jack had once more given in to Gwen’s demands. Ianto had faced down a bullet to the brain that day, only for the gun to misfire. Even from where he stood, Jack could tell the gun was not empty. It was mere chance. That undoubtedly had the younger man reeling, and rather than receiving comfort or reassurance from Jack, Ianto got to see him pining for Gwen, instead.

(What Jack was not aware of was the effect of the encounter with the alien they had known as Adam. The damage the creature had inflicted was there for Ianto, even if it could not be remembered.)

Ianto had endured it all, until Jack’s disregard finally confirmed Owen’s assertion and Jack’s negligence. And Ianto’s own hormone-fueled reaction, along with the pain of a new bond with no consistent offering of attachment forthcoming, had fed his despair and led to…

Jack let out a sob just as a cup of tea was placed at his elbow. Toshiko put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him to her. He embraced her from this awkward position, him in his chair and her standing beside him. He cried into her ribcage for several moments. “You’ve read it?” he asked, when he calmed and leaned away from her. His hands shook as he reached for his tea.

“I have,” Tosh answered. The realization that his behavior had been more hormonal than intentional was the only reason she had come to him. “I’m sorry, Jack. It’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”

“One hundred and four,” Jack sobbed, then gasped. It was only a moment before he was hyperventilating. 

Toshiko ran her hand along his back. “Slow your breathing, Jack. Here.” She held his nostrils shut. “Hold your breath while I count to ten.” Once she got to ten, she released her hold. “Now breathe through your nose. Nice and slow. Here, hold your breath again.” She kept this up until his breathing was back under control.

She leaned against his desk as he reached for his tea. Then she reached out to steady his hands, which were now shaking even more. “I suppose it will be of no comfort that one of those deaths was probably in a firefight with three drug dealers.”

Jack’s eyes widened as she told him what they had found at the warehouse.

“I... in reading this,” Jack gestured to the screen, “I can see everything that happened, and how. And why. Even I could tell I was being more of an arse to him than normal.” At Toshiko’s snort, he hung his head. “I’ve made him immortal, Tosh. That’s… that’s unforgivable.”

“Why don’t you wait and see what he’s willing to forgive?” she asked.

“It’s too late. You heard the Doctor. He and the one called River, they both kept saying ‘if’ Ianto decides to return. What if he doesn’t?”

“Eternity is a long time, Jack. You’ll see him again, even if it’s not right away.”

“You seem awfully confident.”

“I know he loves you, Jack. And we both know that he can forgive anything.”

Yes, Jack thought. If Ianto could forgive what had happened to Lisa, he could forgive anything.

She squeezed his arm. “Give him time. And in the meanwhile,” she grinned, “you can figure out how to woo him properly.”

Jack groaned. He’d never wooed anyone in his life. “Ideas?”

“It’s not all flowers and chocolates. You can start by giving his flat a good scrub. Some things may need to be replaced, by now. Bloodstains can be tough, and we don’t have himself here to work his magic.” Ianto seemed to be able to clean just about anything. It was like some weird superpower.

Jack chuckled. “That would be a good start.” His eyes lit up. “Or maybe,” he looked at Tosh. “Would it be presumptuous, do you think, to…” he explained his idea.

She smiled and nodded. “Let’s go look. If it’s the one I’m thinking about, it might be brilliant.”

***

Within a month of Ianto’s departure, Gwen was gone, as well. She tried to negotiate with Professor Copley at the Pharm, defying Jack’s orders and going so far as to step between the team and the professor, effectively blocking their line of fire. The professor shot her where she stood. They returned fire, killing him, but Gwen was dead in minutes.

What followed was the stuff of nightmares. Unable to stomach the loss of another team member without a chance to say goodbye, Jack sought out the mate to the resurrection gauntlet. He brought Gwen back, but she was some sort of primal creature, all hunger and rage. 

They found out that day where the myth of the zombie originated. Gwen managed to kill Jack when she broke loose, escaping the hub. She killed a young woman, peeling the top of her skull from her head and sucking the brains from it like it was an oyster. Jack and Owen shot her, while Toshiko shot the glove, with the same effect as with Suzie.

It had taken everything Tosh and Owen had to keep Jack from blaming himself for the result. Yes, he had gone for the glove, and that had been a terrible idea. But it was the glove that had resulted in how Gwen came back, not Jack being ‘wrong’. 

Tosh and Owen began to realize the extent of the comfort and grounding that Ianto had effortlessly provided for Jack, and they sorely missed it.

They were still reeling from the aftermath of Gwen’s death when John Hart showed up with Gray. But it was the very fact that they were down two team members that saved the day, because they called on UNIT to help with the rift alerts and all three returned to the hub, surprising John and overpowering him before he could kill Jack. 

Tosh was able to disarm the bomb in John’s wrist strap, and he in turn helped them to disarm most of the bombs he had planted, before they ran out of time. Gray showed up and managed to kill Jack, but Tosh and Owen captured him before he could escape with Jack’s body. They put him in stasis and once Jack revived they sent Hart on his way and Torchwood turned its attention to assisting with the cleanup of the city.

While being short-staffed had saved them – Jack realized that if he’d had a full team he would have returned to the hub alone and been ambushed by Hart – it was time to start rebuilding. Jack recruited Andy Davidson to replace Gwen. He hired Rhys to handle logistics and cleanup and help keep the archive from falling into disarray until Ianto’s return.

He had not heard from the Doctor that Ianto would not return, so he clung to the belief that his lover _would_ be back. As the months dragged by, he found it difficult to maintain that hope, and he finally realized why his own absence with the Doctor had been so hard on his team.

After the Earth moved and was put back again, he brought Donna and Mickey on board. Donna handled paperwork and helped with the tourist office, and she helped Rhys maintain the archives. Mickey was a backup for Tosh, and a great addition as field agent. 

Soon after that, Jack arranged for Martha to join once she was done with UNIT. As a result, the team was becoming stronger and more agile. But it wasn’t the same, without their archivist. The team worried for Jack, who had not been quite the same, since Ianto left.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I suppose I should apologize to anyone who is Gwen-neutral or (gasp) a fan of Gwen's. I don't personally like Gwen, but I don't normally turn her into a brain-slurping zombie, either. It just sort of happened... 
> 
> And you'll never guess why - a certain someone (who totally deserves to be treated right) started making eyes at Rhys (who totally deserves to be appreciated, even if it's in a non-traditional way). And then he started making eyes back! So Gwen just had to go... 
> 
> Then the how just sort of bigfooted its way into my brain, and simply had to be written. :D


	8. Chapter Eight

It was a quiet Tuesday morning, and everyone was in the hub, working on projects or paperwork or, in Owen’s case, playing a video game. At the first sound of the TARDIS materializing, Mickey began whooping. A golden cloud seemed to explode around Donna’s head, and she fainted. Thankfully, Rhys had been standing beside her and caught her before she could fall.

“What the hell?” he asked, wide eyes ranging between the TARDIS and the armful of unconscious ginger who he was trying very hard not to notice felt soft and warm and quite nice in his arms, actually. 

Jack ran from his office and practically fell down the stairs in his rush to get to the TARDIS. “Ianto?” he called out. The others gathered around him, waiting for the door to open.

The Doctor came out, first. “Jack!” Then he looked around, surprised. “Mickey!” He spotted Donna and rushed over to her. He placed a hand on her temple. “Yes, the failsafe made her lose consciousness before she could remember. Splendid!” He stood and made his way back to the others as Rhys carefully placed her on the sofa.

Jack had tried to peer into the box, but the Doctor had closed the door when he stepped out. “Doctor, where’s Ianto?” he asked, feeling a bit of fear that the younger man had decided not to return, after all. Was this the Doctor coming to let him know that? He turned fearful eyes to the Time Lord.

The Doctor was gratified to see Jack so eager to have his bondmate back by his side. “How long has it been?” he asked, looking around and seeing a good number of changes.

“Seven months,” Jack answered, fear still coursing through him.

“Ah,” the Doctor said. “Well. It’s been about ten months, for River, Amy, Rory and me. But it’s been… a bit longer, for Ianto. He…” the Doctor glanced back. “I’m not quite sure why _I’m_ the one to do this,” he announced crossly to the door.

At that, River stepped out of the TARDIS and closed the door. But not before they all got a glimpse of Ianto, Rory, and Amy holding on to one another. She smiled at everyone present. “Hello. We thought we should warn you that from his perspective, Ianto has been gone for several years.” She turned to the Doctor. “Was that so difficult?”

“Years?” Jack echoed. Toshiko took his hand.

“He was in the Asylum for more than two,” River said quietly. At their startled expressions, she quickly added, “The Doctor took him to the Asylum on Gaenor in the Liliwen sector in the sixty-seventh century.”

Jack smiled, remembering that the Asylum had the best reputation in all of time and space for helping those with crippling mental disorders. It was actually his hope to get Gray there, at some point.

River nodded. “They were able to help him, but it took a while. The suicides did a lot of damage, but there was also a great deal of trauma to heal, and from a fairly young age.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. He knew about quite a bit of it, and he was glad it had been addressed.

“He still has a way to go, but he has made incredible progress,” she concluded.

“And we were able to determine that the reset from the vortex does not return him to the condition he was in when he gained immortality, but rather to the most optimal condition in his timeline,” the Doctor added.

“He died again?” Jack asked, dismayed. He had already noticed how the reset from the vortex worked. It was the only reason he was still sane.

“He saved Rory and Amy from a murlack,” the Doctor said sadly.

Jack shuddered. Being mauled by a murlack would not be a pleasant way to go.

“What that means is,” River tried to get the conversation back on track, “he is healthy, now.” She gave Jack a pointed look, reminding him of her promise. “He has chosen to return, but we _will_ come back for him, if he cannot find his footing, here.”

The Doctor was nodding enthusiastically. Ianto had been an excellent companion. Another snarky voice of reason, he and Rory bookended the antics of Amy, River and the Doctor quite nicely. Plus, he was brave, fiercely protective, intelligent, and delightfully wicked. Nothing they hadn’t already known, really. But it had been quite satisfying to see him come into his own, since leaving the Asylum. 

Yes, Ianto Jones would be more than welcome back aboard the TARDIS, any time.

The Doctor looked at Jack, who was watching the TARDIS with a sadness and longing that made his hearts lurch. He reached out to Jack. Ianto’s fixed-adjacent nature had allowed the Doctor to become used to the idea of Jack. It no longer hurt to be near Jack, he realized. He knew that at some point this had happened (would happen, was going to happen, etc.), but he hadn’t expected it to happen _now_, from Jack’s perspective.

He smiled as he took Jack’s hand. “It’s no longer a problem, Jack. You can travel with me now, any time you’d like.”

Jack’s eyes shone. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yes, he helped,” the Doctor confirmed. “He is a three-quarter step from a normal human to you. Because I have acclimated to him, I can easily grow accustomed to you, now.” He canted his head towards the TARDIS. “Same for her.”

Jack reached out and hugged the Time Lord. “Thank you,” he choked.

“Thank Ianto, you mean,” he replied, returning the hug.

“That, too,” Jack blinked several times and looked towards the TARDIS.

When Ianto finally stepped out, Jack, Toshiko, and Owen all goggled. He was wearing a midnight colored bespoke woolen suit with a deep purple shirt and a black silk tie. Despite this being nothing out of the ordinary for him, he looked… well... 

Owen thought he’d never seen the Teaboy look quite so healthy and at ease. None of that tight-arsed stiffness that had always set Owen’s teeth on edge. He now realized that it must have been tension and trauma that had made Ianto move that way. But now, he was all grace and ease.

Toshiko thought he looked more like himself than he ever had, before. As expected, he had not aged. He had an easy smile on his face and he was not full of tension like he was expecting to be clobbered from behind, at any moment. He looked confident and more at ease than she’d ever seen him.

Jack thought he had never seen anything quite so amazing or beautiful or… He gripped Tosh’s hand to keep himself from closing the distance between them, taking Ianto in his arms, and snogging his face off, right then and there. He felt a jolt go through him as Ianto arched an elegant eyebrow at him, and he gave a tentative smile, in return.

Ianto returned the smile, then found himself with an armful of Toshiko as she hurled herself at his chest. They both laughed as she said, “I missed you!”

“And I you,” he replied, speaking into her hair as she attempted to squeeze the breath out of him. He unwrapped his right arm in order to shake Owen’s hand.

“Good to see you, mate,” Owen said grinning. He’d never have expected to miss their Teaboy, but he found himself damned glad to have him back. “Now can I trouble you for a cup of coffee?”

Ianto grinned. “In a minute, assuming you lot haven’t broken the coffee maker.”

“Haven’t used it. We’ve left it for you, patiently awaiting your return,” Owen laughed.

“Jack takes it apart and cleans it every week,” Tosh added, stepping back from Ianto and giggling at the surprise on his face at that news.

“Jack. Cleaning.” Ianto frowned. “Something.” He shook his head like it didn’t quite compute, causing Owen, Tosh, Mickey, Andy, and Rhys to laugh, and Jack to pout.

River sidled up to Owen and they turned away as she spoke to him in a low tone.

The Doctor clapped his hands together. “Well, it’s time for us to be going,” he smiled. “Ianto, remember what I told you?”

“Yes, Doctor, of course,” Ianto smiled.

“Excellent!” he grinned. He ran over and hugged Mickey and Jack before stepping back to Ianto’s side. 

Ianto hugged him before he could retreat into the TARDIS. Jack felt a pang because it reminded him of how a child would embrace a parent. “Thank you,” the younger man whispered. “I came so close to losing myself, but you saved me. I’m… I’m not sure I could have found my way back, without all that you all did.”

“Don’t mention it,” the Doctor replied, holding Ianto close before loosening his hold and kissing Ianto on the forehead. When he stepped back, he added, “No, really. I mean it. You were pushing your luck, sending us here, but I’m glad you did. But try not to let more than that slip, okay? Good man,” he slapped Ianto on the back and bounded into the TARDIS.

River reached out and grabbed him, holding him fiercely. He clung to her in much the same way he had held onto the Doctor. “You let us know if you need anything, I mean it.”

Ianto held her for a moment longer, then stepped back. “Thank you,” he smiled. She kissed him on the cheek and walked into the TARDIS.

Amy was once more leaning against Rory, who was leaning against the side of TARDIS, watching the proceedings. She stood away from her husband and stepped up to Ianto, taking his face in her hands as his hands seemed to just naturally rest at her waist. More than one eyebrow was raised when she planted a hell of a kiss on him. Then she hugged him. “Take care of yourself, Jones. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiled at her, then kissed her sweetly. “Thank you.”

She hugged him again. “Hey. We save each other. It’s what we do.”

Ianto smiled. “Keep himself in line.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always.” She grinned at him and walked into the TARDIS.

That left Rory, who was still leaning against the TARDIS. He pushed himself upright, stalked slowly forward, then wrapped his arms around Ianto and kissed him long and hard and deep. As he stepped back, he straightened Ianto’s waistcoat and adjusted his tie. “See you around, meus theasaurus,” he smiled softly.[1]

Ianto returned the smile. “Vale, meus venustus.”[2] He leaned his forehead against Rory’s. “Thank you.”

Rory hugged him. “Amy’s right. We save one another.”

Ianto smiled as he stepped back. Then he muttered, “Take care of them, you troublemaker.”

Rory grinned mischievously. “Why should they have _all_ the fun?” Then he sobered. “And I will.”

Ianto shrugged. “I know.”

Rory stepped into the TARDIS. Before he closed the door, he said, “All you need to do is call, and we’ll be here.” He closed the door, and the TARDIS dematerialized.

***

[1] My treasure

[2] Goodbye, my sweet


	9. Chapter Nine

Ianto shot his cuffs as he turned to face his coworkers. Andy, Mickey, and Rhys quickly made their way over to the sofa, to be sure Donna was not alone when she woke. Owen was staring openly at Ianto, who met his eye unblushingly. Owen grinned and winked at him, then headed to the med bay.

Tosh was also staring at Ianto, but then she blinked and gave Jack’s hand a squeeze before kissing Ianto on the cheek and retreating to her computers.

Jack was looking at Ianto, who was now openly exuding all of the confidence he had previously only shown in the bedroom. The younger man was not embarrassed by the sendoff he had just received, but he was in no way trying to challenge Jack to say something about it. It was a neutral look, awaiting questions from Jack, but it was neither defiant nor ashamed.

Jack briefly wondered if it had been a setup, but he quickly concluded that if it was, it was on the part of Amy and Rory. Ianto had clearly been goodbying them while still inside the TARDIS, because he was a very private man. Jack didn’t believe he’d be so petty as to put on such a show to make him jealous. The other two, he was sure, were much more likely to make it clear that Ianto had other options, if Jack couldn’t get his act together.

He found himself liking them very much, just for their obvious affection for Ianto. And of course they would be protective; they had seen Ianto at his lowest and most vulnerable, and had clearly helped to lift him out of it. He found he was able to manage the stab of jealousy and fear that had coursed through him as the couple bid Ianto goodbye. After all, it was his own fault that they had been in any position to take him away, in the first place.

It still hurt like a motherfucker, but it was no less than he deserved.

He smiled gently at Ianto. “So. How long has it been?”

Ianto returned the smile, stepping up to Jack and drawing him into an embrace. Jack let out a sob that he had no idea had been lurking anywhere about his person. He buried his face in Ianto’s neck and drew in a deep breath, holding on to the younger man with all his strength and taking comfort in his intoxicating scent and comforting embrace.

“Shh,” Ianto soothed, holding Jack close. His eyes fell on Toshiko, who gave him a smile and turned back to her screens, finding hope in the brightness of Ianto’s eyes as he held his… former? ...lover.

Yes, it was former. Or perhaps, hopefully, once and future. After all, he had been gone for thirty-seven months. Twenty-eight of those had been in the Asylum. His friends were only allowed to visit for four hours, once a week. The Doctor had arranged it so they spent a month of their time, just visiting him. During that month, each TARDIS day was spent so that each of them could spend four hours at the Asylum each week, for four weeks. Each of them would visit him once a day, for them. And it worked out so he would see each of them every four weeks.

Once he was released, he traveled with the Doctor for nine more months. They were all together during the first and last of those months. In between, River was there quite a bit, but not always. Rory and Amy were there for a few months at a time, then they went home, and the Doctor and Ianto (and sometimes River) would travel for a few weeks or so before picking them up again.

It was sometime in the second month of travels that he began gravitating towards the Ponds for reasons other than friendship. During his time in the Asylum, he had grown attached to all four of his friends. He had come to see the Doctor and River as parental figures, except that he could trust them to not harm him, or one another. But Amy and Rory… he had fallen for both of them, in different ways.

Amy reminded him of Jack. She was brash and impulsive and completely delectable in a way he had never experienced a woman. But Rory… Ianto admitted that he had a soft spot for the former centurion. He was gentle and kind and yet fierce and passionate. And he was always the one to calm Ianto.

At first, it was during their visits. Ianto had frequent panic attacks, in the beginning. (The whole ‘immortal’ thing had taken him quite a long time to accept.) He still had his moments, actually. Of the four, it was Rory who was able to calm and soothe him. The others were helpful, but only Rory could banish the panic with his miles-deep calm. Once he had been released, the panic attacks had all but subsided, though he had several severe ‘episodes’ after reviving from the murlack mauling.

Ianto would have been surprised if anyone compared him to Rory, but they both had that calm, grounding effect on those around them. They were both gentle and kind and warm and thoughtful and sarcastic and sensible. It was only natural for them to find solace in one another when the others became overwhelming in the chaos they attracted (and generated).

He’d been quite surprised when each of them had given in to the tension that had been growing among them. Ianto had resisted when Amy kissed him, but then Rory was there, reassuring and soothing and offering kisses and nips and nibbles that were every bit as delicious and passionate as Amy’s. They had backed off before he could become overwhelmed, but within the week they had driven him to distraction, and before the second week was out he had joined them in their bed.

The joy he had found in their warm, generous loving had been so different from his last sexual experience before his first suicide that he wept in their arms for the rest of that first night. He had been embarrassed, but as always their love and understanding had eased his heart and mind.

Though he mentioned Jack often, he only spoke of him occasionally. But in all the months he was gone, Ianto had never stopped aching for his lover. He’d gained enough clarity to realize that what they’d shared before had not been healthy or even (were he completely honest) particularly happy. But it had been the best he’d believed he could hope for. Even before the bonding was explained to him, he came to realize how much Jack’s fear of getting close to anyone had hurt them both. Ianto vowed to demand more from Jack, if the older man still wanted any sort of relationship with him.

And the first part of ‘more’ was for Jack to grow up and admit it was a relationship.

About six weeks after he left the Asylum, the Doctor took him to Boeshane, a few years before Jack was born. There, he learned all there was to know about the evolutionary anomalies of the colonists, the biological imperatives that those anomalies had precipitated, and the rituals that triggered or appeased those imperatives, as appropriate. Ianto chose to participate in the induction ceremonies and all of the trainings, and he was now considered a citizen of the colony.

Now, the only thing Ianto had any certainty of was that he loved Jack. He knew he probably always would. But he also knew that he could not live as he had, before. Immortality meant that eternity stretched before him, and the only way he could face it and keep his sanity was if he took care of himself. If that meant rejecting Jack’s offering of an attachment, then he was prepared to do so, should Jack show no inclination to treat Ianto with the same care that he was willing to offer Jack.

Moving forward, they would approach one another on equal footing, or not at all.

***


	10. Chapter Ten

After a long moment, Jack stepped away from Ianto, swiping at his eyes and clearing his throat. “River says you’ve been gone a while,” he said, unsure of where or how to begin speaking with Ianto.

Ianto nodded, looking around the hub, taking in the changes. There were more workstations, and the place seemed almost disturbingly tidy. His eyes made their way up to see if Myfanwy was there.

“I just fed her an hour ago. She’s likely napping,” Jack said, following Ianto’s gaze.

“Looks different,” Ianto said, his voice neutral. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. After all, the hub (and Jack) had gotten along fine for more than a century before he’d got there. It was a relief, really. But he also felt a pang at seeing the place in such good shape. It had been a shambles, after his suspension. That it wasn’t now made him feel as though he hadn’t been missed.

Of course, that was a data point of an entirely different color, wasn’t it?

Jack cleared his throat beside him. He could feel more than see the concern that bland mask that Ianto had taken refuge behind was attempting to conceal. Jack was sorry to see the mask back, so soon. Having seen the younger man utterly unguarded with those traveling in the TARDIS, it hurt to see him diving for cover within five minutes of their departure.

“The place was a disaster, when we started expanding the team. Donna and Rhys came up with a rota, so we all take turns cleaning up, now. And if it’s not good enough, Donna makes us do it again,” he grinned when Ianto chuckled.

“Rhys?” he asked. “Can’t imagine that went down well, with Gwen.”

Jack shuffled from one foot to the other, then quietly launched into the story of what had happened, with Gwen. He did not hold back any of the details, wanting Ianto to know everything.

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” Ianto shook his head sadly. “I know how much…”

“No,” Jack cut him off. “You don’t. Because I didn’t. Not like you thought I did.”

Ianto looked surprised. Then he shook his head. “Jack,” he began. This was not a good beginning.

“No, Ianto. I mean it.” Jack sighed, then held out his hand. “Can we go somewhere, and talk?”

Ianto stared at his hand for a long moment, then raised his eyes to Jack. “Do I still have a flat?”

Jack dropped his hand and tried to hide his disappointment. “You do, but it’s not precisely where you left it.”

Ianto’s eyebrows shot up. “Meaning?”

Jack continued to shift his weight nervously from one foot to the other. “I was just going to clean your place, but then I thought it might have too many bad memories. I talked to Toshiko about it, asking what she thought of my idea, if she thought you might like it…”

“Jack,” Ianto reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sure it’s fine. I did just disappear for… how long?”

“Seven months. And three days.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow at Jack’s uncharacteristic accuracy, but let it go unremarked. “So you found a different flat, and moved my things?”

Jack nodded, looking very uncertain. “I think… I hope it’s all right.”

Ianto smiled. “Let’s go, then.”

Jack let the others know they were leaving and led Ianto to the invisible lift. Once on the Plass, they walked in an uncertain silence for about fifteen minutes to a posh block of flats overlooking the bay.

“Jack?” Ianto asked, looking warily at the door where Jack was waving his hand over a digital scanner. “What have you done?”

Jack smiled sheepishly. I think you know that I own a few properties throughout the city, but I remembered one time you said you would love to have a studio overlooking the bay. So…” He looked worried. “I hope it’s all right. Toshiko liked it. The rent is about the same as your other place. You’d pay the company that oversees my properties, so you would never have to deal with me as your landlord, or anything.”

Ianto was just staring at Jack, who was now babbling about the estate agent that oversaw his property. The man before him was so different from the cocky, nonchalant captain he had left three years – or seven months – before. It was neither good nor bad; he was just trying to take it all in and reconcile it with what he knew.

Jack trailed off when Ianto gave him a soft smile. “Sorry. I’m nervous. I just really hope you like it.”

“Only one way to find out,” Ianto stepped forward. “Does something need to be done, to add me to the security?”

“No, Tosh took care of that, already,” Jack gestured towards the panel. As Ianto pressed his hand to it, he continued, “It’s a quiet building, mostly middle-aged tenants, keep to themselves, but friendly.” He introduced Ianto to the security guard at the front desk in the foyer, then continued telling Ianto about the building and the area as they ascended the stairs to the first floor. “The lift is here, stairs over there,” he pointed as he pressed the call button for the lift.

Ianto was still taking in his surroundings. The building spoke of an understated elegance that suited him. As they waited for the lift, he asked, “And how, exactly, is the rent here ‘about the same’ as my tired, tiny old flat in Radyr?”

Jack shrugged. “I bought the property in the twenties, when this was still docklands. Leased it out until they started the big rejuvenation project. Used seventy-odd years of lease money to develop it into this,” he gestured around them to indicate the building as they got onto the lift. “I’ve no use for the property, or the money it generates, but it’s something to do. So if I want to give a… friend… a break on the rent, I figure that’s no one’s business but my own.”

Ianto’s cheeks showed a high color as he asked, “So will this make me kept, then?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jack blurted. “I thought you’d like this place. I was going to offer it rent-free, but I see now why Tosh thought that’d be a bad idea.”

Ianto snorted and looked away, embarrassed.

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he whispered. “Wanted to start making it up to you, how badly I behaved. I…” He looked up, and Ianto was startled that Jack was letting him see every feeling. “I’m so sorry, Ianto. For everything. I know this may seem like a lot, but really, it cost me nothing, and it seemed like it would suit you.”

The elevator stopped at the top floor, and they exited into a well-appointed hallway. Jack stopped. “Look, if you don’t like it, just stay while you find another place.”

Ianto sighed. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Jack. It’s just…” he looked around and sighed. “It’s just a bit to take in, yeah? I come back and find that my home isn’t my home, any more. I… It’s just been a lot.”

Jack nodded, staring at his boots. “Yeah, I get it. Took me more than a few years to get my head around things, too. So I get it. But your old place… it was…” he sighed. “I tried cleaning it. Got a crime scene cleaner in there, and everything. But every time I went back, all I could see was your blood, everywhere,” he looked up, and his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “The truth is, I was being selfish. The bad memories there were mine, not yours.”

Ianto reached out and grasped Jack’s arm. “I’m sorry I did that to you, Jack. And I’m sure this will be fine. The place is beautiful.” He smiled encouragingly. “Which one is it?”

Jack led him to the flat, and as they entered, Ianto looked around. It was absolutely _perfect_. He kept his expression neutral as he explored the place. Beautiful hardwood floors accented by hand-woven throw rugs in the perfect palette of colors. A sleek kitchen with dark granite and stainless steel and white cabinetry with clean lines. A small dining nook with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay. A living room with French doors leading to a wide veranda with a stunning view and comfortable rattan chairs and an abundance of plants. Back in the living room, bookcases decked out with all of his books and dvd’s and cd’s. 

His heart swelled as his fingers passed over the book titles. He had put them up in his old flat just as they had been in London, complete with the few books that Lisa had turned upside down. It was a quirk of hers, to tweak his nose over his obsessive habits. He had not been able to bear for anything to be out of order, but he had left the ones she turned upside down, as an unspoken endearment. That Jack had paid attention as he packed and unpacked again meant the world.

A fireplace completed the lovely living room. Ianto soon discovered that the flat had three bedrooms, and he wondered what the hell Jack thought he was going to do with all of the space. The master bedroom was lovely, with an ensuite bathroom, a walk-in closet (where Jack had lovingly arranged his suits), and a wall of windows with automatic, room-darkening blinds. Jack had also purchased a new bed and bedding.

Ianto shuddered at the memory of all of the blood, and he realized that Jack had done the right thing. He turned to Jack, who was standing in the bedroom doorway, looking uncertain. He gave a small smile and entered the bathroom, which included a walk-in shower and a claw-footed bathtub big enough for two. The toilet was in a separate closet beyond the sink.

Ianto walked back out, exploring the first of the other two bedrooms. It had been set up as a sort of study, with his desk and a comfortable futon so it could be used as a guest bedroom. The third bedroom was empty. A hall bathroom completed the tour.

Jack was now standing in the doorway. Ianto walked up to him and kissed his cheek. “It’s perfect, Jack. I love it.”

Jack relaxed and gave a sigh of relief. “I’m glad.”

“How did you know, though?” Ianto asked.

“Know?”

“There are fresh flowers on the table by the door,” Ianto nodded that way as they walked back towards the living room.

“I bring them every other day,” Jack shrugged. “And a cleaning service comes once a week. I’d like to keep doing that for you, if you’ll allow it. You have so little time for chores, I’d like to treat you to that.”

Ianto smiled and ducked his head. “Thank you.”

Jack slowly reached out and took Ianto’s hand. “I think we should talk. Would you like a glass of wine or beer, or maybe some coffee?”

Ianto was about to tease Jack about the hint for coffee, but it looked like the he was offering to make a cup for Ianto, which made him blink. Jack was definitely showing some distinctly different behaviors, and Ianto was not sorry to see them, though they were a bit jarring.

This time he gave a wider smile. “How about I reacquaint myself with my coffee maker?”

Soon they were sitting on the sofa, facing one another and talking as they enjoyed their coffee. Ianto told Jack about his time at the Asylum, and traveling on the TARDIS. He laughed at Jack’s pout when he realized that Ianto had now traveled with the Doctor longer than he had.

As kindly as he could, Ianto told Jack about his relationship with Rory and Amy, as well as how he had come to feel about the Doctor and River. “They first met us in our future, so that’s a little strange,” he shook his head, and Jack laughed with him about the timey-wimey. 

He also told Jack about the time he had spent on Boeshane. As they spoke more about that, Jack began apologizing for what he had done.

“I thought I was just reciting some old love poem, in a moment of romantic drama,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I had no idea what I had unleashed.”

“Jack, it’s all right,” Ianto said, reaching for Jack’s hand. They held hands for some few moments as Ianto gathered his thoughts. “I understand what happened, and I understand why. But do you?”

Jack’s gaze did not waver. “I do. It scared the hell out of me, at the time.” He sighed. “All I could think was that I couldn’t go through that again. I’m not sure you realize, but losing Estelle almost destroyed me. If it hadn’t been for… well, for _you_, I’m not sure I would have survived with my sanity intact. So the thought of admitting the depth of what I was feeling for you, only to face losing you…”

He swiped at a tear and cleared his throat. Then he looked at Ianto and squeezed his hand. “It makes me ill to think I’ve cursed you, like this.” He squeezed Ianto’s hand again, asking that he be allowed to finish. “But the thought of having you by my side, for as long as you’re willing to be there,” he hesitated, then let out a somewhat hysterical laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever faced the future with this much hope, before.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Ianto’s. “I love you, Ianto.” Ianto gasped and leaned back, his eyes wide. Jack smiled. “I love you, and I would like to offer an attachment, to fulfill our bond.” His smile widened at the stunned expression on Ianto’s face. “You don’t have to answer now. I plan to court you properly. But I want you to know that this is my intention.”

“Jack,” Ianto whispered. “Are you sure?”

Jack nodded. “I know you still believe that I loved Gwen rather than you, but I hope that, in time, you’ll believe me when I say that it was always you.” He sighed. “She was just a fantasy. We had this great chemistry. Though,” he added quickly, “not as great as what you and I share.”

Ianto chuckled at Jack’s waggling eyebrows, and Jack continued, “She saw me as some big damned hero, and that was good for my ego, but we were both too alike for it to be anything more than a fantasy. You, on the other hand,” he sighed. “You have always seen me as I am, and accepted me for who I am. That means so much more than some hero worship that was superficial and tiresome.”

Ianto nodded. “Thank you, Jack. I’m glad you’ve gotten some clarity around that.”

“Ianto, I owe you so many apologies,” Jack sighed. “It would be so easy to blame the hormones, but that doesn’t excuse how I treated you. When I think of that day, when you faced down a pulled trigger…” he shook his head. “And all I could do was stare after Gwen, because you were still there, but _she_ was threatening to leave. _That_ was the greater threat to my well-being in that moment, and I completely disregarded yours.

“And that happened so many times,” Jack finally raised his eyes to Ianto, who reached out to brush away his tears.

“Jack, neither of us realized what was happening, and based on what the Doctor and River told me, I think the hormonal explanation makes perfect sense. You were never deliberately uncaring, but you were off-balance from the time we bonded. It makes sense that we were both… off.”

“It makes sense, but I was still horrible to you,” Jack said, unwilling to be let off the hook, this time.

“Jack, I forgive you. Just as, I hope, you will forgive me for slashing myself open and bleeding to death all over you.”

“Of course I do, but that wasn’t your fault.”

Ianto shrugged. “Perhaps not. But that’s my point. That was no more me than the… unkindness… was you.”

Jack nodded. “Still.”

“I know,” Ianto blew out a breath.

“Where does that leave us?”

“Well, we’re not hormonal anymore, are we?” Ianto grinned.

Jack found a smile tugging at his lips. “No.”

“So…” Ianto sobered. “Fresh start?”

Jack nodded. “I’d like that.”

***


	11. Chapter Eleven

Ianto returned to work directly, and Owen was able to clear him for duty immediately. He quickly got used to working with Mickey, Andy, and Rhys, and enjoyed Donna’s humor and efficiency a great deal. He remained closest to Toshiko and Owen, but he found he enjoyed the growing team, a great deal.

With Donna and Rhys on the team, he was able to pull the archives into better shape than they had been in a half-century. He trained both of them in the cataloguing system, so they were able to take care of day-to-day maintenance so he could be freed up for field work. He felt his immortality was a responsibility, and if he could save someone’s life, then he was fine with the danger.

Jack hated it, and finally understood Ianto’s objections to how he put his own life in danger, more often than not.

Jack, Tosh, and Owen were pleased by how Ianto had grown while away, and they found themselves impressed by the agent he became, now that his past was no longer holding him back. The others immediately respected his abilities and often yielded to his experience, in the field.

True to his word, Jack courted Ianto. They dated for six weeks before the team locked them in a hotel room together, telling them not to bother coming back in to work until they’d gotten on with it, already.

There may have been a bit of tension, in the weeks leading up to what Ianto would later come to call ‘the quarantine’. 

Jack had been too afraid to make the wrong move, and Ianto had been too unsure of himself, but that hadn’t kept the frustrated desire from building between the two, and it had begun to drive the rest of the team to distraction.

It did not help that now that his physiology had fully acclimated to the changes it had undergone, Ianto’s pheromones had become as strong (and distracting) as Jack’s. For the most part, it was no different than a very delicious cologne choice, but the energy of the budding romance between the two had sent the seduction-level output into overdrive, for both men.

After the two men returned from hunting weevils, during which it was obvious that they had actually _only_ hunted weevils, the others sat around trying to describe the pheromones. Having already zeroed in on Jack’s on a boring afternoon shortly after he returned from his trip with the Doctor (a warm ocean breeze, honey, and something crisp and clear and otherworldly that Ianto had dreamily described as starshine), they focused on Ianto, who now smelled like a sweet summer rain, coffee (naturally), and the leather binding on old books.

The team was used to dealing with Jack’s pheromones, but the addition of Ianto’s had them stymied in their efforts to ignore the particular variety of tension that the pheromones excited. So Toshiko faked a rift alert showing some tat landing in the honeymoon suite of one of the poshest hotels in Cardiff. She sent Jack and Ianto on the retrieval, and then Rhys, Owen and Mickey barricaded them in the room before they realized they’d been had. 

Donna gave them the ultimatum, “Don’t even think about leaving until you’ve figured this out and blown off some steam, among other things.” Then Tosh shut down all electronics in the room, including their comms. She also disabled the phone for the first twenty-four hours; after that, it could only be used to call for room service.

“What the hell were they thinking?” Jack said, once the comms went dead. He headed to the door, giving it a half-hearted tug.

“Well, if you’re that desperate to leave, then we could always just start a fire,” Ianto groused, picking up the duffle bag that had been tossed at them before the door had slammed shut.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for an arsonist,” Jack smirked. He turned and caught Ianto’s expression before the younger man turned away. “Hey,” he reached out, taking Ianto’s arm and pulling him back to face him. “It’s not the company, believe me,” he smiled. “I just don’t like feeling trapped.”

Ianto sighed. For a moment, he’d hoped the prospect of some alone time with him would have appealed to Jack. He swallowed the disappointment, reminding himself of what he had learned at the Asylum. He could decide to take Jack’s words at face value, and not just assume that Jack didn’t want to spend the time with him.

He backed out of Jack’s reach, looking around. “If you really want to leave, I can get us out of here.”

“What?” Jack asked, startled. Did Ianto want to leave?

Ianto smiled. “Jack, I used to break out of Providence Park on a regular basis, just for a change of pace. I think I can manage getting us out of a hotel room.”

Ianto turned and started looking through the suite, and Jack frowned. “You want to go?” He felt a wave of disappointment wash through him.

Ianto shrugged. “I don’t want to stay, if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jack said, a little too quickly.

Ianto stopped and turned to Jack, frowning. He wished he was better at reading mixed signals.

Jack crossed the room and stood in front of Ianto, a whisper away from disregarding the younger man’s personal space. “I may not like being tricked and trapped, but that doesn’t mean I don’t relish the thought of spending some uninterrupted time with you.”

Ianto’s eyes fell to Jack’s lips for a split second before dropping to the floor as he blushed and snorted a small laugh.

Jack didn’t miss the look, and he felt a small thrill at the thought of finally (_finally_) kissing Ianto properly.

It had been a long, long, (_long_), six weeks (and seven months). Jack had been courting Ianto, wanting to move slowly and be careful of the younger man’s feelings. Knowing how much he loved fresh flowers, Jack had arranged for them to appear in Ianto’s flat every three days, always with a thoughtful note (or sweet, racy, cheeky, funny, or romantic, as his mood dictated). He had taken the younger man out to dinner at least once a week, and at least twice a week they’d ended up cooking or having takeout at Ianto’s and watching a movie.

They had talked more than either man had ever done before (though Jack was almost two centuries old and Ianto’d had a good deal of intense therapy at the Asylum, neither man was used to talking all that much). It had been difficult, both of them needing to change the habits of a lifetime. But the friendship, understanding, and intimacy that was developing between them was well worth it, to both of them.

They were both pleasantly surprised that deepening their friendship had only strengthened their regard for one another. The fear that familiarity would, as the saying went, breed contempt was quickly laid to rest. Jack came to realize that Ianto was like a buried treasure. The more he dug, the more he found, and it was all too beautiful and compelling and _interesting_ for him to resist or regret the inclination to just keep digging.

Oddly enough, the only thing that seemed to be lagging was the physical side of their relationship, which had always come so naturally to them. Perhaps it was how their last encounter had played out, but both of them were hesitant. 

Though he realized he had not been in complete control of his faculties at the time, Ianto was still ashamed of that first suicide (all of them, really), and how it (they) had hurt Jack. So Ianto felt incredibly unsure of himself, and he was looking for Jack to make the first move. 

Jack, on the other hand, was afraid of going too fast. He knew from conversations with Ianto that he wasn’t solely responsible for that first suicide, but he was well aware that it was his unkindness that had driven his lover over the edge, and there was something sobering and shaming in knowing that he had provided the final straw, as well as many of those that had gone before. So he wanted to be certain that he was paying attention, this time. He never wanted to see Ianto that broken, ever again.

He and Ianto touched frequently, but hugs and cuddles on the sofa during movie time, and the occasional peck on the cheek was as far as he’d had the nerve to go. He’d been waiting for a sign from Ianto, but the younger man’s uncertainty wasn’t giving him much to go on, so he was erring on the side of caution. 

Both were terrified of making the wrong move, so neither of them had yet made one, at all.

This had worn thin with the rest of the team. The tension between the two was palpable, because both clearly wanted to move forward, but neither seemed to have worked out just how to do that. Missed opportunities on both sides had left one or the other either lashing out in anger or running for cover at some perceived rejection. (And it was sometimes surprising to see what reaction which of them was having.)

So here they were. Locked in a hotel suite because their own endurance for uncertainty and frustration had outstripped that of the rest of the team. 

And Ianto had just given Jack a sign.

Jack smiled and reached out, brushing Ianto’s arm. “How about we change and see what they ordered us for lunch?”

Ianto gave a shy smile and reached for the duffel bag. Jack followed him into the bedroom and watched him unpack, once again enjoying his quiet grace.

There really wasn’t much in the bag. Two pairs of track pants and two t-shirts for each of them, two toiletry kits, and a bag full of what appeared to be the contents of the toy drawer in Jack’s bedside table. Ianto chuckled as he began to undress. Jack noticed that Ianto was completely unselfconscious as he hung up his suit and tie, then placed his shirt, vest, socks and pants in one of the hotel’s laundry bags.

Jack was spellbound. Ianto was even more beautiful than he remembered. He had to remind himself to breathe as Ianto tossed the laundry bag to him and strode over to the bed and began to dress in one of the sets of track pants and t-shirts in his size.

Jack quickly disrobed, hanging up his greatcoat and trousers, and placing the rest in the laundry bag, which he tossed back to Ianto as the younger man left the room. By the time Ianto placed the bag by the door, Jack was dressed and walking back into the sitting room.

“TV’s not working,” he remarked, fiddling with the remote as Ianto raided the minibar and returned with two beers. He tossed the remote aside and took the covers off of the plates on the table by the window. “Looks like Tosh ordered,” he grinned, seeing their favorite sandwiches.

They sat and chatted as they ate, laughing and enjoying one another’s company. They finished their beers, looking out over the bay. Jack had stretched out his leg so that it rested against one of Ianto’s, the contact warming both of them. He felt another small thrill at the feeling of Ianto leaning into his every touch, telling him that his (former, hopefully – please, gods! – soon-to-be once again) lover craved the contact as much as he did.

He got up and grabbed two more beers before heading over to the couch. He and Ianto sat in companionable silence for a while before Ianto spoke. “I can’t believe they did this.” He turned so he was facing Jack. “I can’t believe they expect us to just…” he blushed – not so much at the thought of sleeping with Jack, but more at the thought of doing so on demand, as it were.

Jack turned to face him, as well. Taking his hand, he said, “C’mon. You know we don’t have to do anything. I’ll even sleep on the couch, if you…” his voice trailed off as he saw a shadow cross Ianto’s face. It was gone almost before it appeared, and it certainly wasn’t anything he would have noticed, before taking the time to get to know Ianto better. “Hey,” he reached out and touched Ianto’s cheek. “What is it?”

Ianto looked away, shaking his head.

“You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

Ianto stood and walked to the window, watching the rain bucket down into the bay. He was silent so long that Jack thought he wouldn’t answer. And when he spoke, it was so softly that Jack had to strain to hear. “I don’t know what you want, Jack.”

***


	12. Chapter Twelve

Jack stood and stepped up behind Ianto. Smiling, he whispered, “Oh, that’s easy, Love.” He wrapped his arms around Ianto and rested his chin on the younger man’s shoulder for a moment. Then, he pressed his left cheek against Ianto’s right, enjoying the feeling of Ianto leaning into him. Without breaking contact, he gently moved to place a kiss on the shell of Ianto’s ear. “I want you,” he whispered.

Jack was holding Ianto so that the entire length of his torso, from shoulder to arse, was pressed tightly against him. He felt Ianto’s shudder and smiled before kissing the ear, then nipping the lobe, for good measure. He felt Ianto’s breath quicken, and he clamped down on his own response, willing his body to remain calm. 

“You’ve been holding back,” Ianto sounded breathless.

Jack rested his chin back on Ianto’s shoulder. “So have you. I thought you might need some time to acclimate, so I haven’t wanted to rush you. Plus, I’m pretty sure I came on a little strong, that first day you got back.”

“You might have, but I’ve had a lot of time to wrap my head around things, since then.” He sighed. “Just feels like the signals have started to get a little mixed.”

Jack frowned. “How do you mean?”

Ianto took a deep breath. “Well, first you set me up in a truly fantastic flat and tell me you want to fulfill our bond, then you start spending a lot of time with me. Which has been better than brilliant,” he added quickly, smiling shyly. “But then you’ve stopped making passes. And you haven’t once tried to seduce me, which has been disconcerting.”

Jack chuckled.

“But I can tell that you’re holding back,” Ianto went on before Jack could interrupt him. “But then as soon as they locked us up, you felt trapped. And now you’re threatening to sleep on the _couch_,” he finished, sounding completely perplexed. 

Jack chuckled again. “Took that as a threat, did you?” He groaned as he realized there was such a thing as _too slow_. He realized he had held back a bit too much. “I’m sorry if I’ve confused you. It’s just that you’ve been so reserved, I thought it was because you needed more time.” He sighed. “And I worried that even if you’ve forgiven me, you still need to work through the anger and fear and… and everything.”

Ianto leaned his head into Jack’s. “I had more than two years in the best mental institution in all of time and space to work through all the stages of grief, you know.”

“Then what’s been holding you back?” Jack asked, curious.

Ianto was quiet for a moment, which Jack had come to understand was his way of gathering and ordering his thoughts. “A couple of things, I suppose. First, you told me you loved me, which I still can’t wrap my head around.”

“But I do,” Jack interrupted.

“Yes, and I believe you.”

“But only because you spent time on the Boeshane Peninsula.”

Ianto shrugged. “I don’t doubt your sincerity, Jack. I just don’t understand how you could, or why you would.”

Jack looked sharply at Ianto. “More than two years at the best mental institution in all of time and space, and you still have that view of yourself?”

Jack watched Ianto’s profile as he smiled. “It’s not how I see myself, Jack. It’s how I see you.”

Ianto’s self-esteem was just fine, thank you. He was happy with who he was, and comfortable in his own skin. But he still had the habit of putting Jack on a pedestal. He saw Jack very clearly, understood him as perhaps no one had, before. And he loved all of Jack, both shadow and light. He had no illusions that Jack was perfect, but he was so stunningly beautiful in all his imperfection that Ianto often felt outclassed.

Jack went very still as he processed what Ianto had not said. “Oh,” he said quietly. And the humility of the expression only added to his perfections, and Ianto knew yet again that he was completely and utterly lost.

There were times when Ianto wondered if Jack might be mildly psychic, or at least a bit telepathic. This was one of them, as Jack seemed to pluck a thought directly from Ianto’s heart and mind.

“But don’t you understand that I find you just as beautiful?” Jack asked quietly. “You were right that we need to be on equal footing, Ianto.”

“I know. And I think we’ve done fairly well with that, since I returned. But I…” He sighed. “Jack, what I did. I know I wasn’t myself, but…”

“Hey,” Jack soothed, turning Ianto in his arms and hugging him. “It’s all right.”

“I know. I believe you. And I’m grateful. I am. But I…” he buried his face in Jack’s neck, nuzzling to get a good whiff of pheromones to steady himself. “I just can’t make the first move, right now,” he breathed out in a rush.

Understanding dawned for Jack. Ianto had been the one to initiate sex during their last encounter, so it made sense that he was feeling unsure of himself, now. He had no idea how Jack would react, with the memory of being covered in blood as Ianto bled to death still so fresh. Jack closed his eyes against the memory, unsure himself, but knowing they needed to create a new memory to replace that one.

To his surprise, Ianto continued to speak, clinging tightly to him. “Doesn’t mean I don’t hope a move gets made,” he said, his voice pitched low. “I can always tell you to slow down, if I need you to.”

Jack chuckled. Ianto’s tone suggested that he did not expect to need Jack to slow down. He stepped into Ianto, moving him so his back was flush against the window he had been looking out of. He leaned back and caressed Ianto’s cheek before running his fingers through the younger man’s hair. He traced the shell of Ianto’s ear with his thumb before grasping it lightly and giving it a slow, firm tug. 

“Mmm,” Ianto sighed, beginning to relax into Jack’s touch.

Jack reached up and began caressing and then pulling on the other ear before taking Ianto’s face in his hands. Ianto slowly opened his eyes and Jack smiled again before leaning in. He watched Ianto’s face for a reaction, and was surprised when his eyes darkened in response to Jack’s proximity. With a feather-light touch, he brushed his lips against Ianto’s before placing a soft, tender kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He pulled back just a bit and felt his heart turn over in his chest at the smile shining in Ianto’s eyes. He leaned back in and kissed an earlobe before slowly brushing his face against Ianto’s, relishing the slight scrub of stubble before dipping his head down and kissing Ianto’s collarbone.

“Jack,” Ianto sighed.

“I want you,” Jack whispered against Ianto’s neck, kissing the pulsepoint and taking a deep lungful of the younger man’s heady scent. They were both hard, the thin material of their track pants doing nothing to shield the heat of their bodies from one another. 

He leaned in, and their pelvises fitted together perfectly, their cocks lined up against one another in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that was building. He nipped Ianto’s jaw before leaning back, again. In a low voice he continued, “I already told you what I want. But I’m willing to wait for it, to work for it.”

Ianto vaguely wondered if Jack was intentionally trying to drive him mad (again), with the teasing. He gave an annoyed huff, grabbed Jack by the hair and pulled his head back far enough to look him in the eye. “Then I suggest you get to work, Harkness,” he growled.

In that moment, Jack lost all will to tease and tantalize. He became overwhelmed with raw _need_. After all, it had been months for him, with no company other than his right hand, though there was the occasional threesome where his left joined in, as well.

Still keeping a tight rein on himself, he leaned in and kissed Ianto. The younger man sighed and tilted his head, allowing Jack a better angle. As their lips began to move together in a sweet, familiar dance, they readjusted their hold on one another. Ianto gently rocked his hips into Jack’s, and the friction made them both moan.

Jack took advantage and plunged his tongue into Ianto’s mouth, exploring and rediscovering beloved territory. Roving hands found their way under t-shirts, and soon there were sighs of approval as the shirts hit the floor and skin pressed against skin. 

Jack was actually trembling, trying to hold himself back, but at the next pause for breath, Ianto locked mischievous eyes on Jack’s and slowly sank to the floor, taking Jack’s track pants with him. Ianto’s knees had barely hit the floor before he had completely divested Jack of the track pants and tossed them away. Jack chuckled as he realized that now the first move had been made, Ianto was back in his comfort zone. 

Taking Jack by the hips, Ianto pushed him backwards two or three steps and Jack hissed as his naked back leaned against the chilled window. Ianto chuckled. It was a floor-to-ceiling window, and it was a good thing they were so high up, or people would be getting an eyeful of the finest arse in Cardiff.

Ianto watched Jack for a moment as he stared back, his pupils blown with lust and need and his chest heaving as though he had just run a mile. Ianto was fairly certain he had never seen anything quite so erotic and arousing in his life. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered before plunging his nose into the loose (though steadily tightening) skin between Jack’s testicles.

He inhaled Jack’s scent before taking first one, and then the other into his mouth, slurping and sucking and wringing the most delicious noises from Jack. Releasing Jack with an obscene _pop_, he leaned back to watch Jack’s face as he kneaded Jack’s thighs, coaxing them apart just a bit more. The movement gave him more room to work, but also brought Jack’s hips down just enough that Ianto wouldn’t strain himself when he got to the best part.

Jack whimpered when Ianto grasped his hips and leaned in again, taking a long, wet lick from his perineum, up between his balls, and all the way up his shaft to the head, which was suddenly encased in the most exhilarating soft, wet heat. Ianto swiped at the slit before circling the head with his tongue, then without warning plunged his head down, relaxing his throat so he could take all of Jack.

Jack shouted in surprise, grasping the back of Ianto’s head and fighting for his next breath. Ianto hummed his pleasure at this and swallowed, causing his throat muscles to massage Jack’s cock as he nuzzled the baby-fine hair at the base. Jack moaned again as his hips juddered forward.

Ianto released Jack’s hips, allowing his lover (_yes!_) to grasp his head and guide Ianto as he bobbed his head in long, slow strokes. He pulled almost all the way off of Jack’s cock, giving the head a sturdy pull before plunging back down. He fondled Jack’s balls in his left hand as he trailed his right hand up Jack’s body, and without prompting Jack took Ianto’s index and middle fingers into his mouth, sucking and moaning around them as Ianto swallowed again.

Ianto gave another hum, this one involuntary as he was surprised at how Jack sucking on his fingers affected him. Jack released his fingers as he threw his head back and moaned. He was thrusting very slowly, the rocking of his hips gentle as he tried to control himself and not simply fuck Ianto’s face. 

He lost that control as Ianto’s spit-slick fingers began teasing his hole as that other clever hand squeezed his balls, just so. The final straw was another forceful suck at the head of his cock, followed by a greedy tongue swiping firmly through the slit. Jack’s hips snapped forward, and Ianto relaxed his throat again and allowed the invasion as Jack’s cock plunged into his throat. He moaned loudly around the invasion, then swallowed, and Jack was lost.

Jack shouted Ianto’s name as he came, and Ianto swallowed it all down, savoring Jack’s essence. He gently drew off of Jack’s cock and caught his lover as his knees gave way. 

***


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, italics indicate speaking in the language of the Boeshane colony.

Ianto rested on the floor with Jack sat between his legs, cradling the older man against his chest as he slowly came back to himself.

“Gods, Ianto. I’ve missed being with you, like this.”

“I have, too,” Ianto whispered against Jack’s hair.

“Eight and a half months… it’s too long,” Jack sighed, pulling Ianto closer.

“Try thirty-eight and a half,” Ianto replied.

“But you had Rory and Amy,” Jack protested, knowing he sounded jealous. 

Because he was.

“Compatibility has nothing on chemistry,” Ianto smiled, kissing Jack’s head. He could not summon the wherewithal to feel guilty about Rory and Amy. Under no circumstances could he and Jack have been considered together when he’d succumbed to their charms. “And fondness and affection can’t hold a candle to the love I feel for you, ya twpsyn.”[1]

Jack pulled Ianto closer and looked up at him, his lips quirking but his eyes betraying the depth of his feelings. “You say the sweetest things.”

“So I’m getting the impression you want to try out monogamy, for a while,” Ianto leaned down and kissed Jack hungrily for several long, gorgeous moments.

Jack sighed. “Need to get used to the bond. You should know, if…” he looked away and nuzzled into Ianto’s chest hair to cover his sudden shyness. “If you accept my offering and we fulfill our bond, it will be pretty intense. There won’t be room for anyone else, for a good long while.” He hesitated. “I don’t know if that might be a deal-breaker, or not.”

Ianto kissed Jack again, hoping to soothe him with slow, deep kisses that soon began to draw sighs of contentment from them both. When he finally drew back, he smiled. “Not a deal-breaker, Jack. I want us to be exclusive. I always have. I just didn’t…” he trailed off, not wanting old hurts to invade this new closeness.

Jack reached up and traced Ianto’s cheekbone with his index finger. “You didn’t think I’d be willing to. I get that. But do you want to know something funny?” At Ianto’s quizzical look, he continued, “It was so good with you that it _was_ exclusive, from that first, glorious night that we spent together.”

Ianto looked surprised. “Really?”

“I didn’t want you to know that, at first because I knew I’d be leaving as soon as the Doctor showed up. And I knew you’d leave, like everyone else did as soon as they found out about my…” he bit his tongue to keep from calling it a curse. He didn’t want to remind Ianto that they were both cursed, now. “…my situation,” he finished.

“As I understand it, fulfilling the bond will mean that we’ll always want it,” Ianto said. “That makes immortality seem less terrifying, actually.”

Jack nodded.

Ianto kissed him again. “Think your legs will work, now?” he teased. “I think some hydration is in order before we resume our activities.”

“You mean there are to be more activities?” Jack laughed. He felt Ianto’s unabated arousal pressing into his hip, and he was grateful for his lover’s patience as they navigated this new territory.

“There bloody well better be,” Ianto said, managing to sound both cross and amused. When Jack laughed again, he stood, hauling the older man to his feet and smacking his arse. “C’mon.”

Once in the bedroom, he tossed a bottle of water to Jack and downed one, himself. As Jack drank, Ianto threw the duvet and top sheet back before climbing onto the bed and crawling across it to Jack, who dropped his empty bottle and pulled Ianto upright.

“You are entirely and dangerously tempting,” he growled as Ianto, up on his knees, was once again situated over him.

Ianto lifted Jack’s chin and ran his hand down his throat as he drank deep, using his position to kiss Jack with all of the hunger and intensity that he felt. When they finally parted for air, he sat back on his heels, his face level with Jack’s. “I want to feel you inside me, Jack,” he murmured, his voice a low growl.

Jack reached up and stroked Ianto’s cheek. “No, Love,” he replied gently, surprising Ianto. Before the younger man could protest, he added, “I think we need to finally lay that last memory to rest.” He reached up and kissed Ianto, hard and deep. “What do you say we replace it with a better one?”

“I’m not tying you up, Jack,” Ianto began to withdraw, but Jack held him close.

“I’m not asking you to, Love. I think it’ll be a while before either of us is ready for that, again.”

Ianto nodded, looking abashed. 

“Hey,” Jack took his chin in his hand. “None of that. I want you to love me, and I want to give you all the pleasure I denied you, that awful day.”

Ianto looked up at Jack. “A new memory?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

“A happy one,” Jack smiled, and leaned in, kissing Ianto again. He lightly pushed the younger man back onto the bed before turning to look through the duffle for some lube. He tossed the tube to Ianto, then climbed onto the bed beside him. Ianto set the lube aside and took Jack in his arms, kissing him again and again and again.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he whispered, delicately tracing Jack’s lips with a long, elegant finger. He looked at Jack, wide-eyed. “This isn’t like before.”

“Because we both know about it, now. Intention carries a lot of power with it.” He sighed. “You don’t have to… you know.”

Ianto smiled. “I know. I’m enjoying this, for now. Doesn’t mean I plan on turning you down.”

Jack returned his smile. “Yeah?” This was the first intimation of an answer from Ianto, and Jack felt a thrill of hope and joy course through him.

Ianto pulled him close again, pushing Jack onto his back. He quickly tucked a pillow under Jack’s hips before pressing onto him as his hands ran through the older man’s hair, touched his face, and began exploring. He dragged his body against Jack’s as he kissed his way down that perfect chest. He teased and tasted Jack’s nipples before moving further down, giving Jack’s erection a quick lick before settling between his legs.

He spent long minutes opening Jack, first with his tongue, then with well lubed fingers. Jack was mewling and muttering in the language of his home world as Ianto brought him to the edge before backing away, again and again. As he finally sank into Jack’s body, Jack wrapped his legs around the backs of Ianto’s thighs and made a low, lusty, keening sort of sound.

Ianto held his breath and went very, very still. It had been more than three years since he’d had sex with Jack, and the danger of coming before he even started to move was disconcertingly real. He lowered his head and gave Jack a slow, deep kiss as he rocked his hips gently. “_You feel fucking incredible_,” he growled, nipping Jack’s bottom lip. Jack did not immediately notice that Ianto was also speaking Boeshanian.

Ianto set a slow, deep pace. Most of his weight was on his left elbow, his forearm snaking under Jack’s arm and gripping his right shoulder. His right hand was in Jack’s hair. He was propped up enough to watch Jack’s face as he moved inside the older man, but he couldn’t resist leaning in for sloppy, dirty snogs as the energy and emotion continued to build between them.

“Ianto,” Jack gasped, one arm grasping Ianto’s shoulder blade, the other destined to leave finger-shaped bruises on the younger man’s arse cheek. “_Please_,” he let out a strangled cry as Ianto rolled his hips and hit Jack’s prostate.

“_What do you want, Love_?” Ianto asked, lust tinging his voice and making it sound like pure sin.

“_More_,” Jack panted. “_Please, more_.” He was desperate for Ianto to take him in hand and send him over the edge.

“_My Love. You already have everything_.”

Jack’s eyes flew wide as he realized what Ianto had said. And how he’d said it. One more well-aimed thrust, and Jack was crying out as he came with astonishing force. The power of his orgasm triggered Ianto’s, and the aftershocks rippling through Jack’s body milked every last tremor from Ianto.

Jack wrapped himself more securely around his lover, begging him in a soft voice not to leave him. Ianto was still half-hard inside him, and he wanted to savor the feeling. “Gods, you feel incredible,” he panted, trying to regain his breath.

“Had you forgotten that?” Ianto asked ironically, leaning up to grin down at Jack. He was also having difficulty calming his breath.

“Never,” Jack returned his grin. “I have a keen memory. But some things are best demonstrated, don’t you think?”

Ianto smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “You are as beautiful as I remember,” he breathed between kisses. “I love you, my Twpsyn.”

“Is that to be my nickname, then?” Jack couldn’t stop grinning. He was willing to concede that he was an idiot. And to hear the word rolling off of Ianto’s tongue was enough to make his cock twitch again.

“Haven’t decided, yet,” Ianto smiled.

“And when did you learn to speak Boeshanian? Gotta say, I’m loving it with a Welsh accent.”

“River gave me a language study cube at the Asylum, once I had permission to have personal items. Had two and a half years to play with it.”

Jack turned serious. “How long had you been there before you got privileges?”

“Six months,” Ianto shook his head. “I was in bad shape,” he admitted, then when Jack’s face grew somber he added, “Mostly because of really old stuff.” He sighed. “Jack, I was a ticking time bomb. There was just too much in my past that I hadn’t dealt with.”

“I understand that, but I am still ashamed for my part in it all,” Jack replied. He reached up and kissed Ianto again, relishing the feeling of being pressed into the bed by his lover’s body. He twined his fingers in Ianto’s hair and kissed him with a hunger that belied the power of that last orgasm. They kissed lazily for some time until Jack gasped at the sensation of Ianto growing hard inside of him.

As Ianto began moving, Jack located the lube and managed to coat his fingers. He began teasing Ianto’s hole, causing him to let out a guttural cry. Jack allowed the movement of Ianto’s hips to dictate the movements of his fingers, and he was rewarded with a very undone Welshman cursing in at least three different languages as he fucked him erratically (and oh, so perfectly).

Ianto managed to squeeze a hand between them and stroked Jack with a similarly erratic rhythm. They both came within seconds of one another, and Ianto collapsed fully onto Jack, sobbing for air. After some moments he pulled out of Jack and fell beside him, tracing his fingers through the sweat and come covering his chest and belly.

“Bloody gorgeous, you are,” he muttered, kissing the bit of pectoral closest to him. 

“Not so bad, yourself,” Jack grinned.

After a few more moments Ianto got up for a warm flannel and cleaned them both. He crawled back into the bed and lay next to Jack, his head propped on his hand as he looked down and studied Jack closely.

“What?” Jack asked, smiling again.

“Just enjoying the view,” Ianto smiled, but his eyes had turned serious. “Jack, are you sure about this?”

Jack’s heart stuttered. “Sure about what?”

“The bond,” Ianto said, trying to sound offhand.

“I’ve been courting you, Ianto. Of course I’m sure.”

“But…” Ianto looked confused. “But why? I mean, I remember you telling Suzie that the key word in the phrase ‘settling down’ is _settling_. Why would you give up your freedom, for…” he flailed. “For _me_?”

Jack groaned inwardly, cursing Ianto’s memory and his own foolishness. “First, I was just jerking Suzie’s chain. Second,” he turned to Ianto and reached out to caress his face, drawing a finger across his eyebrow, back to his sideburn, and down to his jaw. “You, Ianto Jones, are the exception to every rule. No one fortunate enough to win your love could ever see being with you as settling.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Ianto’s lips. “The bond arose from our mutual love, even though neither of us was ready to recognize it as such. I have been courting you with the express wish to offer an attachment through the bond. I have no qualms about this, but if it’s not what you want, I will not mention it again.”

Jack felt his heart hammering in his chest. Ianto had said so much to indicate he was inclined to accept the offering, but until he did Jack seemed destined to feel unsure of where he stood. Ianto was looking at him now, his expression unfathomable.

“Jack, I spent a good deal of time in your home colony. I’ve learned your language. I love you so much it’s difficult to breathe, sometimes.” He gave a small smile before continuing. “It seems that we need to learn to trust one another, again. I need to trust that you won’t get bored of me and regret forging the bond, and you need to trust that I’m not stringing you along.”

He sighed and reached for another bottle of water. After sharing it with Jack, he said in a low voice, “What I said earlier wasn’t a mistranslation. You have everything, already. And when the moment is right, I’ll make it official.”

Jack bit his lip to keep from asking why now wasn’t the right moment. Ianto caught his expression and laughed. He leaned forward and kissed Jack again. “I spent time on your home world to know more about our bond, Jack. I was taught by your people. Actually, River told me after we left that it was your grandmother who took on most of my instruction.”

“Really?” Jack did not squeak. Really, he didn’t. But it would have been entirely justified, if he had. His grandmother, the one who had been an instructor, had been one of his favorite people, ever. Time had not changed that. That she had been Ianto’s instructor meant more than Jack could say.

Ianto smiled and took Jack’s hand in both of his. “She told me that I would know when the time was right. That I would not be able to stop the words, when the time came. I’m waiting for that moment, the same as you are. But I swear to you, F'anwylyd. I am yours.”[2]

In the next moment, Ianto was flattened against the mattress as Jack snogged him stupid. 

***

In the following days, the two did not leave one another’s side. They barely left the bed, and did not notice when the use of the phone and electronics was restored. Nor did they notice when food was delivered – usually by staff that had been given ample warning to use headphones and for God’s sake to stay away from the bedroom. 

On the third day they lounged on the balcony and ate as the rooms were aired and cleaned. The staff giggled as they left, noticing that the two men were all over each other, their shirts lost over the side of the railing and flying towards the bay.

***

Deep in the night heading into their fifth day in quarantine, as Jack moved inside of Ianto, the words swelled from the younger man, unbidden. It began as he felt a shimmering, blissful warmth from Jack, and before higher brain function completely fled, he remembered that the offering could sometimes be made physically through the bond, if the emotion was strong enough.

Ianto felt as though Jack’s love was filling all of those empty spaces that physicists insisted lay within and between his cells. He had the distinct impression that his skin was all that was keeping him from flying apart, shattering into a fine, blissed-out mist. And in the next moment, he wasn’t entirely certain that his skin would be capable of preventing that from happening.

His eyes flew wide and locked with Jack’s, and he began to speak the enthralling words, the flowing, lyrical language of Boeshane only amplifying their beauty. Jack pulled Ianto close, peppering his face and neck with kisses as the words continued to pour from him. They both kept moving, their bodies locked together by the intensity of the attachment forming and the bond becoming fulfilled. Both men were left insensible by the intensity of the climax they shared – and it was one orgasm that they both shared, rather than each chasing a separate completion of his own. 

It was likely that the entire city felt the shiver of bliss that was in the air for hours after, if the drop in violent crime during that time was any indication.

Even the Weevils stayed in their nests that night.

***

[1] Idiot

[2] My dearest


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue:

As Jack predicted, the intensity of the fulfilled bond distracted them for a long while. Martha had reported for duty during the week Jack and Ianto spent locked in the hotel room. Even once they were let out everyone immediately realized that they weren’t yet ready to return to work. The pheromones alone sent the Weevils two levels below into a frenzy and were even making Myfanwy twitchy.

Owen managed to take Ianto’s phone and call River.

The Doctor showed up the next time he and River were traveling without the Ponds (ten minutes later). He took Jack and Ianto to the twin moons of Malorein, where they honeymooned for a few years before returning two days later.

The change in them was dramatic. The tension each man had been carrying because of the unfulfilled bond was now gone. In its place was a calm steadiness that helped to ground the rest of the team. 

Jack moved in with Ianto. Each man used one of the spare bedrooms to have his own space to retreat to, but they shared the master bedroom, the joy and comfort they found in one another banishing even the possibility of boredom. As Jack had suspected all along, he would never grow tired of his bondmate.

Ianto was marvelous at assuring Jack that the sentiment was mutual.

***

Time passed gently. Rhys proposed to Donna one rainy Friday afternoon in the hub. Wilf gave her away as the Doctor watched from a distance with a hanky in hand. They shared a long and happy marriage that was blessed with two strong-willed, ginger children who followed their footsteps into Torchwood.

Owen eventually pulled his head out of his arse and started dating Toshiko. It took him two years to propose, but the marriage lasted decades. Torchwood was blessed with several generations of Sato-Harpers.

Mickey and Martha had at first simply bantered about being rejected by Rose Tyler and The Doctor, respectively. It was a strange sort of one-upmanship that got more outrageous as they became more competitive. On one notable occasion, it ended in snark and tears, and Ianto was forced to play peacekeeper as the two snarled at one another for weeks. He took them out on a retrieval, only to be attacked by a Weevil as their bickering prevented them from working together.

It was a close call. The Weevil had pretty much ambushed the two as they were too busy arguing to be properly aware of their surroundings. Ianto managed to divert the Weevil, but not before both were startled back to reality. It had been a close call, and each was convinced that the other could have been killed.

No one saw them for a week, and by the time they returned to the hub they were man and wife.

Andy married a cute dental hygienist that he had saved from an alien hooked on laughing gas.

Jack and Ianto ran into the Doctor, River, and even the Ponds fairly regularly through the years, though it took several centuries for their bond to relax their need for monogamy. The TARDIS seemed to have a sixth sense for the timing of this, for she brought the Ponds to them before they even realized the change. Jack ended up loving them as much as Ianto did, and he somehow managed to overcome their former impression of him to win their regard, as well.

Interestingly, they did not stray further than the Ponds – felt no need to, really. Something about the bond kept them always attuned to one another, no matter how many offers they received to expand their experiences.

***

Torchwood fell and rose and fell again, many times through the centuries. Jack and Ianto were there, taking care of each generation of friends that they made. The Doctor was a consistent presence in their lives, and they traveled with him often. They were the only friends he knew he would never lose, so he found himself returning to them with unerring frequency.

In the 52nd century, the Doctor called on them to help him rescue Amy from Demons Run. It was the first time the Ponds met Jack and Ianto, but the fondness both men felt for the couple had never dampened, and once they had recovered sufficiently from the shock of the events that day, they were easily befriended, tempted, and (eventually) seduced.

River met Ianto for the first time some centuries later, and he helped her out of a fix she had got herself into on an illicit archaeological dig. He confided that the first time he had met her, she had saved his life, so he was only too happy to return the favor.

On the day River Song was released from Stormcage, there was a handwritten letter (unheard of, really) in with her release notice, asking that she, her parents and the Doctor show up in the Torchwood hub at a specific date and time. 

How could she resist?

***

All who knew both men found great delight in the happiness of the two. Such a rare thing, happiness. And it flowed between them through all of their long lives’ joys and sorrows. They occasionally separated (eternity is such a long time, after all), but the craving of the bond always pulled them back together, and their friendship assured the contentment of their minds even as that unabated chemistry they shared promised the satisfaction of their bodies.

The long years were seldom a burden, because they faced the time together. They hardly appeared to age, and helpless to stop Professor Yana at the end of the universe, they snuck onto the TARDIS and hitched a ride to earlier times in a distant sector to do it all again.

The next time they made their way to the end of the universe, they got to pretty much the very end, only to find they were not alone. There was a (seemingly) young woman named Ashildr very calmly watching the end. They decided to keep her company. 

When a TARDIS showed up, they took it as a sign. Why should they stop, just because the universe was going to? They hitched a ride in a diner-shaped TARDIS and chose another place to begin again.

And so it went, two lovers stepping through time, the long way.

Together.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
